He can smell the heavy, cold moisture in the air and knows that snow isn't far off. He pulls on his long underwear, jeans, winter coat, gloves, hat and scarf. He heads to the nearby park, Side Park, and enters unnoticed. No one is out tonight. He walks away from the light towards the deepest and darkest part of the park. He lies out his plastic mat on the frozen grass and sits.

He breathes for a bit. Just breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Feeling the moisture enter his lungs. He then takes off his hat and scarf. Then gloves. Then jacket. He starts to shiver and wishes it wasn't from the cold. He is thinking about something lost; something that is no more, something that was shattered again last night. He wonders if his tears will freeze. Then he reminds himself not to think. Not to wonder. To just feel. Feel this moment. This cold. Inside and out.

The boots come off followed by the socks. Then he is shirtless. Then his pants and underwear. He considers sitting his naked self on the frozen grass but thinks that might be painful should something get frozen when he stands up. Should he decide to get up, that is. So he stays on the plastic mat, his clothes neatly stacked beside him.

He breathes. In. Out. In. Out. He just focuses on the breath and the feeling of the air coming in and out of his body. His now violently shivering body. He wants to cry, but cannot. He wants to scream, but cannot. He wants to die, but cannot. No tears come and in a few minutes he stands and gets dressed. His clothes, having lost the warmth of his body, are cold.

He walks back home. Alive and alone.