Escape

I stared out through my ice crusted window into the barren wasteland that I called home. My cheeks were as red as tomatoes and as cold as it was outside. The snow covered trees seemed as if they were staring at me, waiting patiently for me to say something even though I never would. I could feel my breath creating thin ponds of fog on the iced window. I carefully laid my frigid hand onto the fog in order to write something. My fingers trembled as if they were trying to create an earthquake. I wanted so badly to escape. And that is what I did.