Fri, 19 June

The Room Entire Things that made the cold stay outside: The low ceiling, doing its job. Orange light deciding everything. A scarf the colour of a shout. Someone's hand on someone else's shoulder — not drama, just physics. Glasses held with both palms, as if warmth might run. The window full of us, none of us looking. Laughter arriving mid-word, eyes closed, no stopping it. Conversation in the foreground; clink of glasses; the room's far blur. The one who might be leaving, attended to without being watched. Things the cold did anyway: The edges of every face. The dark flat against the glass. The blue pooling under tables like a held thought. The slight halo of attention the room gave the door.