He remembered how the common folk would often talk about how dying to the cold often felt pleasant towards the end, cold turning to an odd warmth that...would envelop you like a blanket until you died. He thought how anyone could possibly know this since dead men could tell no tales, but he wasn't willing to find out the truth of these common superstitions."Quit your whining Arthur, Brand is but your age and he hasn't the shame to ask of stopping." Came another response, an older voice but not so. He was tall and his broad shoulders made her feel week in the knees. She knew exactly what she would think about when she masturbated tonight. “Could you grab the door?” he asked, snapping her back from her daydream. They entered the drafty apartment and stepped into the elevator. She slid the mitten off her right hand and entered her floor number. The yellow lights in the elevator flickered as they always do and the doors opened up to her hall. “Well this is it,” she said pointing to her. More

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