The First of January
Shifting beneath the faded, tartan wool blanket, Isaac turns onto his left side in a miserable attempt to get comfortable. He is lying on their old leather couch in the den - close to a crackling, cast-iron, wood burning stove - and sticks his bare feet out of the blanket to feel the heat on his skin. After a few minutes, he flips the end of the blanket back to cover his nearly-scorched toes - the wool muting the intensity of the heat. It was January first, and Isaac couldn’t sleep.
