I raise myself to an elbow and listen to the air with the jumpy anticipation I can liken only to the twitch on my finger deliberating whether to not to press the elevator return button. The tapping on my window is neither rodent nor Romeo but flecks of ice drumming an uneven melody on the glass. The morning is coated with a sheet of ice that is entirely appropriate for my state of being nothing. Muddy puddle sloshes in my pump heel betraying with a low croaking how undesirable I feel today. I haven�t seen a day like this since childhood�then it was an adventure captured in flashless photos by my pink plastic camera. I wonder if the heavy bended branches will snap and bury me in crystal twigs. I wish they would. Then I would be part of the moment�frozen to a branch hovering in limbo until a sunny word will melt the ice to pluck me from my perch or let me fall into the sooty snow.