I'm walking around my neighborhood, the cool snow soaking into my shoes, making my toes feel numb. I'm not shivering, it's a placid hour, and the temperature is nothing I can't handle.

In town square, I stop to stare up at the great Christmas tree. From down below, where I stand now, it's like you can't see the top, no matter how hard you squint. Maybe it's because its night, and the moon is covered by thick grey clouds. How can that be? The rainbow streamed lights should have illuminated that far away star. Why is it not visible to me?

Its the day after Christmas, they probably just took it down, I tell myself.

I keep wandering, my hands tucked into the warmth of my knit pockets, my chin lifted. It was quieter now, compared to how it was before. Around me kids were laughing and fooling about, throwing snowballs and making snow angles. I take a knee, picking up a flake of snow, letting it melt on my fingers. I don't see what's so fun.

Inside, one of the houses lining the streets was glowing in a warm dinner light. A boy a girl, a father a mother, all gathered around a round oak wood table. The father was recalling a story, making shadow puppets with his hands against the candle light. The daughter cut the steak, being the oldest, while the younger boy was wrapped up by the tale. Their mother, chuckled softly to herself, sipping at the hot chocolates she'd prepared for everyone in little red mugs. Maybe she felt my eyes on her, because she turned to look out the window. I looked away before her concerned gaze could notice me staring. Thankfully it worked.

Finding a park bench near the frozen surface of the lake, I sit down, leaning my head against the metal backrest. It's starting to snow harder, the wind whipping my long auburn hair over my shoulder, but I don't mind.

A few moments go by. I...

Leaning forwards, my elbows collide with my knees, my hands drooping over them, my chin dropping.

Another moment passes...

Hesitantly, I touch a shaking finger to my cheek...

Why am I crying?