not one for idaho

I stuffed my hands deeper into my jacket pockets. Crisp, cold air danced across my cheeks, over my nose, and up along my ears; leaving pinkness wherever it touched. I was never warm here. Perpetually under dressed, I had given up on warmth a while ago. Choosing instead to avoid the monotony of peeling layers off and stacking them back on every hour as I wound in and out of toasty campus buildings.

So instead I stuffed my bare cracked hands in my pockets and watched my long exasperated sigh turn into a cloud of icy vapor hanging in the air.