The.uninvited -

There is a specific kind of cold that has nothing to do with winter.

The chair hasn’t moved since. The.uninvited will always try the handle. That is its nature. It is the shadow in the peripheral, the strange noise in the attic, the email you were dreading. the.uninvited

We talk a lot about guests in this life. The planned ones. The ones with wine bottles and wet umbrellas. We tidy the living room, hide the laundry, and light a candle that smells like sandalwood and lies. There is a specific kind of cold that

But here is the secret I learned:

When I opened the door, the chair was still. The air was 72 degrees. But my breath fogged in front of my face. That is its nature

You don’t have to fight it. You don’t have to perform an exorcism. You just have to stop pretending it has a right to your table.

It doesn’t seep in through a cracked window or a drafty attic. This cold crawls up the back of your neck while you’re standing in a room that should be warm. It’s the cold that arrives with someone—except no one has opened the door.