My stomach feels as though it’s lined with a weight.

Loaded up with rocks and set adrift in the ocean.

I could lecture myself all day about the need to breathe and stay positive, but today just isn’t one of those days.

Something in the air, perhaps.

Or maybe it’s the number 13.

I’ve always felt thirteen was a good number for me, as I’ve never been associated with the Templar knights, and my superstitions don’t extend that way.

I’m wallowing through the day with my lead shoes, wondering what exactly I’ve done to have such a heavy load.

I know that this feeling is temporary, but oh, it’s enormous, and as hard to scale as the mountains that are outside my window.

I look at them, snow covered and majestic, and remind myself that this is all so temporary in comparison.

And suddenly I can breathe again,

For a little while, at least.