I am standing outside in the cold, my breath shooting streams of fog into the dark Chicago night. I look down on the ground at my feet in horror and shock. Everything is still, so very still. The quiet of winter now sounds like a siren in my ears, deafening in its shrill roar. Snowflakes whistle through the air as they plummet toward the ground like bombs dropping from a B-52. I am near the freeway, traffic rumbling by, shaking the earth. And yet I hear nothing. I’m sure my heart is racing, but I am unaware of it. My entire body has gone numb. Although it’s freezing, I can’t feel the cold. I can’t feel anything. I just stand there, breathing hard and steady, staring, downward, at the thing in the snow. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here.

All I know is that the body at my feet hasn’t moved for some time now.