Paul Francais Merron sat on his roof.  The old slate shingles shifted each time he moved, as well as making the roof difficult to navigate.  He'd always planned to repair the leaky old roof but never managed.  He wasn't as handy as he liked to think.
     And there he sat, alone in the cold air.  It was late February and the air was cold enough on it's own.  But with the heavy breeze tearing through his clothing, the cold, dry air felt at least ten degrees cooler.
     Merron was decked out, wearing three T-shirts and a black sweatshirt.  Another sweat shirt was beside him.  The wind still cut through him, causing a shiver to ripple down through his whole body.  He ignored this cold, just now, and thought of a warm shore.  In his mind, sunlight carressed his very soul, sparing him the wretched weather of February.
     He hadn't slept just yet.  It was early morning, and he was exhausted.  Just a few minutes prior, he'd climbed out his window, and plopped down on this rickety old roof.  Lately, things had been tough for him.  Life wasn't what he'd always expected it to be.  Depressed, and lonely, he sat on this rooftop.  The daily miracle of the sun rising would do him some good.
     The first rays of sunlight broke free from the clutches of night.  The light pricked at his forlorn heart, warming him.  Despite the cold, he felt the heat eminating from inside himself.  He felt so lonely there.
     He hated staying up all night.  It left him feeling unclean.  The wind tossed his gritty, matted hair gently.  
     As he watched the sun rise slowly into the cold morning, he let his mind wander to the girl in his life.  She was far away, probably sleeping.  It was an ungodly hour, far too early for Paul's liking.  But the beauty of the sunset was something he needed, and appreciated.  He'd not seen something so beautiful in so very long.  And it reflected this girl.
     A hand drifted to the sweatshirt beside him.  It was brought up to his nose, and he inhaled deeply.  Her scent wrapped around him, embracing him.  Eyes closed, he imagined her there with him.  The smell was like a gentle hug--just the thing he needed.  
     And lost in that thought, Paul enjoyed the sunset.  He watched with her, and she was as real to him then as the beauty before him.  God's paint brush danced across the sky, and Paul could do nothing but drink in the beauty of that single moment.  A school bus rolled by, loudly, ruining it for him.  
     Paul rose and turned, climbing in his window.  And there, wrapped in the warmth and her scent, he collapsed into his bed.  He was asleep.