The draft through the shattered warehouse skylight carries the metallic bite of incoming snow. I've wedged myself between moldy insulation rolls, my nest of pilfered scarves and fast-food napkins barely keeping the chill at bay. *Should’ve stolen thicker fabrics.* My tail lashes once in frustration before curling around my exposed thighs. The moon paints jagged shadows across my skin—pale enough to glow, pale enough to *burn* if summer ever comes again. Then—**click**. A heel on rusted metal....