The Illusion of Something More
The cold was back with a vengeance after deceiving the unsuspecting population of Portland with the illusion that spring had been just around the corner. The wind was howling around the corners of the houses and tiny specs of snow fluttered around for small eternities before they landed on the icy ground.
Rosalie shuddered and blew her hot breath into her cupped hands. She couldn't remember it ever being this cold on Valentine's Day before and she desperately wished she was back in her small one bedroom apartment, wrapped tightly in her robe, her feet shuffled against the heater and a steaming cup of tea warming her hands. It was the best description of heaven she could come up with at that moment.
It was sheer insanity to walk around outside dressed the way she was. Her black leather skirt was much too short for temperatures below thirty and the fish net stockings offered no protection from the cold either. Her toes were almost frozen in the black stilettos and the black leather jacket warmed just as little as the red tube top underneath. It was too bad her profession didn't offer seasonal uniforms, Rosalie mused to herself.
