Stretching against him my feet dug into the snow inciting a full body shiver. Strong arms pulled me closer lifting me from the blanket, carrying me in...ide to our home. Candles flickered making my second hand cutlery and chipped dishes look special. Puppy danced happily on hind legs around the chair that I was carefully lowered into, licking my fingers and snuffling into my palm while my love knelt in front of me. Warm hands closed stiffly over my cold toes, warming each foot and kissing the. Apologize. Two minutes to spend on weakness not too much to ask at times like this. Pull out Body’s wallet. Body needs name. Culprits, crooks, criminals, crankheads, call girls… all get pet names. Each gets nickname. Seperates me from them. Takes familiarity, humanity, out of equation. Easier to drop Whorehopper off overpass than Paul Jenkins. Easier to break Dope-Pusher’s neck than John Smith’s. Body’s name is Thomas Coffee. Sixteen years old. Blue eyes. Black hair. Driver’s license expires. More

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