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A numbing chill gnaws at my face as I push the door to the rooftop deck open, an unlit cigarette dangling idly between my lips. Instantly I feel the hair in my nose freeze; it tickles, and I push on my nose as if it were a tingling red button to crack the hairs. I hear the door shut behind me, and I mechanically pull my hood down over my forehead and start toward the butt can on other side of the deck. The butt can is an old red coffee can, and surrounded by benches on three sides. I smile to myself; it almost looks like the benches are frozen people, dead, huddled around a dead, metallic fire long since extinguished by the cold. I tap my jacket’s pockets in search of a lighter, and I curse myself when I find myself picking up the smoldering butt of an old cigarette and holding it to the end of my own. The wind picks up again, and I feel a shiver shoot down my spine, rattling every inch of my body. I huddle for warmth beneath the clear nighttime sky, periodically taking drags from my cigarette. The ground almost seems lit with the snow reflecting the moonlight so strongly; even the trees seem to be shimmering in the moonlight. Sucking in smoke, I inch my way over to the edge of the balcony - over the balcony I can see the city lights scattered out below for miles and miles, And above the tallest of blinking radio towers is the celestial deity scientists call the Moon. The trees, the radio towers, and even the mountains almost seem to reach to it. I exhale a thick stream of smoke, and even it seems to dance upward into the moonlight. My eyes fix on the it - It’s beautiful, yes, but the main reason for my attention is the energy I feel coming from it. As I fall into the craters and valley of the moon’s luminous surface, I can almost feel your presence. I can feel you next to me, I can feel your warmth through the deadly cold. Still fixated on the moon, my eyes begin to close - I can feel your loving hands on my back, working their way up… and a shiver shoots through me again as the wind picks up. I blink, and shake my head a little. The moon seems so far away now. I take one more drag, stare over the balcony for one more icy moment, turn, and walk to the butt can. Exhaling, I drop the cigarette into it, and walk across the deck, to the door. I stop, my gloved hand paused on the doorknob - and I think back to the times this year I felt most alive. I think back to the beautiful experiences, and I think of you. Suddenly, the wind picks up, and I snap out of my brief daze. I hastily go inside, and slow my pace as I pass the window on the walk toward my room, for I see the smoke from my glowing cigarette butt still ascending up to the sky.