Breath.

A short whisper of a breath catches in the throat of unexpected. The small trickle of air has tried to get through the pinhole in the coat she's wearing. A thick coat with many pockets. The air is chilling and sends chills. Arms wrapped tightly around to block the cold from hitting skin.
Too cold. Too close.

The realization has set in, that's all there is too it. The air desperately tries to warm, and to appear endearing, it dances and spirals wanting to dance alongside the pockets, search their depths and contents. But the coat won't let it.

When the reality sets in and one realizes they're just too far away from the world to let people into theirs. That the only world for them is the one they created for themselves. And that when another attempts to make it into the coat with pockets. The coat scares away and buries one within itself and they become lost in the folds of fabric, creating confusion.

Sometimes the one inside the coat yearns to be let out. Yearns to be found and discovered and adored.

but when that reality is soon to be met. the air instead feels chilling, and one loses itself within the fabric.