Mary Connor was dying. She was tired, more tired than she had ever been. There was a persistent chill in her bones that could stop a heart. But Mary Connor was happy. She was surrounded by her friends and family. By her loved ones. And they kept her warm. They kept the cold away. She could pass on like this, she decided.

Suddenly it got frigid. As if all the warmth she had ever felt was gone. She looked in the faces of her loved ones and saw her own reflection staring back at her. Her parents had long since passed away and she was an only child. She had never married, had never even dated anyone for a long time. All her friends could never really be called anything but acquaintances. She was alone on her deathbed and she was freezing.

Next Chapter: Cows