Can you feel it? The ache in your bones. The sorrow in your joints. It’s caused by the winter wind. No. By the cloudless night? No, not even the moon can numb these determined aches. The scattering leaves are whispering words of melancholy. As if I didn’t already know what they were going to tell me. I did know. I have the words carved into my frontal lobe. Engraved into the back of my eyelids like fucking photocopies. Screaming their bloodied heads off. Racing upon my monorail nerves. Pulsating through my entire body. Digging under my skin. Burrowing into my bones. Oh, Those melancholy aches.