The Entropy Trap: Why Getting Warmer Makes You Freezer-Burned

I walk forward, but the temple behind me is already fading into a memory I haven't made yet. It's a logical impossibility that my heart beats faster because of him standing three meters away, even though he hasn't arrived in this timeline until exactly forty seconds from now.

The snow isn't falling; it's rising up to meet the cold truth that warmth is just heat leaving you. I wear red wool as armor against a winter that feels like an inside job, but the contradiction lies here: The more layers I put on—the gloves, the hat, the scarf—the less skin I have left to feel him.

I told myself this meeting would heal me, yet healing is just another word for burning out. He looks at me with eyes that promise a future where we never met in order to survive our pasts. We are walking on ice over water, but the real paradox isn't freezing; it's realizing I am only alive because he hasn't touched my hand yet.

Editor: Paradox