It's as though everyone around me is inside this house; it's lit up and decorated and they go on with their practices and their way of life. I am outside in the cold alone, merely peeking through the window and I want to join them inside. I pray they see me, but they won't open that stupid door. And that layer of frost on the door thickens with what I learn. I try to warm myself up by saying that it's better to stay outside, ought to gain something, that I belong outside. Yet, I can't turn away, the warmth of her smile turns me to the door and I can't stop trying.