Dear Winter,
You and I haven't gotten on well since I was twelve. Remember when I got skis for Christmas and came down with the chicken pox, and had to watch from the living room window as my sisters broke in my skis for me? That one still stings. But yes, I know you have your special brand of beauty to offer; the color of the sky at six o'clock, the way frost sits on sleeping leaves, and the opportunity to wear layers of cashmere. But let's be honest, you and I are not meant to spend too much time together. And you see how my eyes light up every time I sense Spring around the corner. So, let's make a deal. Make your stay a brief one and I won't go to the police and put a restraining order on you. Deal?
Cordially,
Rita
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