“The wind blowing through my ripped clothes was so cold that I felt like a Percysicle.”
“She felt sorry for him. A hippie chick who looked like she bought her clothes at Oxfam and a puff of wind could blow her over?”
“A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.”
“It was bitingly cold up here, and the wind pulled at his clothes like an insistent lover.”
“Sometimes when the wind blows through the leaves, it sounds like your name. It’s like a sigh then. The most beautiful sound I ever heard. A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer – Gem-ma, Gem-ma – and then the leaves trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.”
“The wind seems to be blowing through the gaps in the conversation like the rushing of empty space.”