Your lips keep moving and mine follow as you opencloseopenclose, breathing words into my mouth and I can't swallow them fast enough and can't trace your words with my tongue. I even fail at this and I'm fallingfallingfalling but you don't care about this worthless carcass. Not fast enough, not alive enough, not responsive enough.

"Brrr." You whisper into the air where we were after I push you away, "You're a cold one huh?"

And now I am cold shivering, little mountains [or are they molehills or goosebumps] breaking out on my skin, as I clutch my arms. Rub updownupdown my arms as I listen to the staccato drumming of my teeth inside my skull which feels like it's floating away.

"Yes, I'm cold."