It has never felt so good to breathe in such frigid air.
I close my eyes at the intake and as my lungs expand gratefully, I imagine condensation crystallizing deep in a part of me that I've never seen; it melts almost instantaneously under the warmth of my innards.
The temperature has been positively feasting on single digit thermometer readings these days, and although it makes biking to and fro a little less than comfortable, right now I'm embracing nature's way of cooling us all down and putting us to rest for a little bit.
The ice and snow crunches under my tires in protest, but I pay them little to no mind for the sound of the wind in my ears, drowning them out. Although I cannot see them, I know that my ears are flushed a glorious shade of crimson, and I look down to see that I have a set of fingers to match, my knuckles tingling with Jack's frost.
Pushing through the still and starless night here in the city of brotherly love I realize this: fetching myself a fine pair of ear muffs and mittens is long overdue.
