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The chill slowly crept on your jacket before seeping to your skin. A quarter past seven in the evening, your wrist watch read. Lines of vehicles stood still around your own as fog and droplets of rain blurred your vision of them through the windshield. It rained heavily, and christmas sales started all over the place, no wonder.

How long has the traffic been going on? Fifteen minutes? Thirty? Maybe there was no glimmer of hope on arriving home before eight.

You felt cold, then tired. Your eyes drooped as if to affirm this, and the hair on your arms stood to reinforce it once more. The amounts of caffeine you took last night to finish a report seems to be taking a toll on you. Mr. Vinson was extra annoying today, and you lost one from the pair of your favourite earrings, too. Even the wind couldn't help but sigh at your day.

Both your hands wandered and caught your arms, rubbing them slowly to keep you warm. But it wasn't enough.

Your eyes did as your arms, trying to find something that would interest you while stuck in this Friday traffic. It sat quietly still on top of your dashboard, telling you to pick it up — your phone. It wasn't an new model, perhaps it was an old one. Still, it kept you company for four years now and stayed sturdy strong. Opening it, blinding light flashed on your face and hurt your eyes. You were just so tired.

A few swipes and you were greeted by an empty lockscreen. "210993", you typed in. It was your birthday, quite uncreative for a password, but it works anyway.

And just like that, your arrived at your second home — Instagram. Almost a year ago, you started using it to keep track with your friends from college and look up photos of cute puppies in superhero costumes.

It kept you for quite a while. But no longer than usual. Come to think of it, don't the pictures seem less interesting than they used to be? Occasionally you'd laugh at Elizabeth's weekly updates about her hairstyle or a favourite celebrity's post without context.

But now, everything's just so bland and pale. You rarely post now, really. You wonder, what did you actually used to post a year ago? 'puppies4life', your handle said. Below were pictures of puppies, selfies with your family everytime you visited them, and occasional manifestations of your past photographer-syndrome phase. You smiled, scrolling deeper down your history kept in images. And it appeared.

Pictures of the two of you.

The two of you sat on the front seats of the 2014 model his dad bought for his 21st birthday. You were happy, enjoying each other's company and living the time of your lives. You told him about Elizabeth's selfies and Vernon's random posts. At that point, both of you were sure that your soulmates were the ones beside you.

But the time came when the circumstances proved you wrong. You had happily agreed on a promotion, thinking it would do more than good. You were mistaken, to say the least. You came to realize how little time time you spent with him, yet what you didn't know was that he's noticed it first. You got into fights that you dismissed. After all, what could go wrong? Nothing could possibly go wrong between soulmates.

On that day you were wearing the same pair of earrings he gave you for your first anniversary. He told you he'd stop loving you on the same front seats that you had made most of your memories with him. Yes, he drove you home before he broke up with you. You couldn't hold your tears back, like rain pouring from the sky.

It was raining then, and it was cold. Never did you think that a day would come when it would end. You missed his warmth so much that you become restless whenever it gets cold.

So why did the pictures seem bland now? Those photos they post — frozen, stolen moments, smiling faces — they used to be yours. Now you know the reason.

BEEP.

The horns that seemed to be shouting at you woke you up from your trance. In shock, you almost threw your phone up the air. Hurriedly you started driving, saying your apologies quite loudly as if the people you stalled would hear them. The highway was now running under the heavy rain that didn't seem to stop.

The chill slowly crept on your jacket before seeping to your skin. Eight in the evening, your wrist watch read. It was cold, the coldest you've ever felt since these rains began. You realized nothing could keep you warm anymore.

.

.

.

It was just so cold.