Encased in metal shaped like an otherworldly beast, the man flicked his lighter in hopes of the minimalist of heat. Outside, white pain sliced down to piles of preserving death. The key had twisted many times before but failed to ignite in the moment. The fading soul was trapped in a can of frost just off a country road.

He was in the kiss of Mother Nature’s chilling lips. But then he saw in the mirror, the glazed-over mirror, lights flashing in the distance. A trickle of hope filled him at the same time his lighter ignited, ready to turn the can of frost into a signaling bonfire.