Can’t walk outside without a thin layer of baby-water coating the jacket or little bits of smoky wood settling in the nose or stepping onto/into a small pile of great, fallen leaves, fading yellows and reds, trading for browns and browns. Emulate a cigarette with two empty fingers side-by-side, drag deep from the empty gap that forms at the second knuckle to let out a plume; hot against cold, micro-crystals shattering and giving themselves up to the sky for our enjoyment. Winter is here, so open the windows wide at midnight, cover in flannel and a blanket of incense, and settle in, because from what’s been said, it’s going to be a long one. We’re okay with that, right?