The bus sped smoothly down the highway late that afternoon, taking me and my thoughts from place to place.
My mom was seated right next to me, playing Christmas songs stored in her cellular phone; the voice of Karen Carpenter as she sang Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire was a melodious mix of joy and melancholy, but the song failed to move me in any way; I hardly felt any emotion and I wondered if that was a good thing.
Barely noticing the passing of time, I watched as the scenes from the window swiftly changed. A few minutes later the skies sent a downpour, the raindrops on the glass window distorting the view from the outside; moist began to form as the air grew colder until I could no longer see clearly through the window pane.
Originally posted at http://www.teckler.com/en/Irenewrites/Winter-Of-The-Heart-186659