i sat on a vacant fallen tree. my jeans stuck to me by the damp moss on the log. i sat and watched the birds go by, the wind rustle the leaves, and in the faint background, a truck on the highway every once and a while. the crisp january air felt harsh on my already soar throat. the sun now slowly came through the trees with a faint golden glow outlined in fog. i waited until my hands were numb, my feet soaked, and my checks red from the wind. i sat there waiting for you, and you came, and warmed my soul. what happened to that?