The icy chill of winter brings me no joy. The sharp, biting wind, and the ominous grey clouds, come with a solemn forewarning of the darkness to come.
Not just the darkness of the sky, and the dreariness of the days, but the mist creeping over my mind like a bad thought that won't go away.
My breath in the air looks no different to the smoke curling away from the cigarette between my fingers, and my eyes search for colour in the bleak landscape. Upon finding none, I casually flick my cigarette butt over the hedge, and turn to go back indoors, leaving the dull, depressing scenery behind.
This winter is going to be a tough one.
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