Shane was shivering in the blistering cold of winter.

Cleo was wearing his jacket.

She was shivering.

But not as much.

The only hints of life were her dainty fingers that clung to the jacket; the jacket that enclosed her in a thick layer of warmth and protection. The jacket, perhaps, was a metaphor for its owner. Both were a barrier between her and the cold, bitter and cruel world that had caused her so much suffering.