It's winter now. I'm settling into my home quite nicely, as I catch a glimpse of the outside, with the snow falling down and coating the ground. It's similar to how I treat my clients, gently wrapping them in warmth and telling them that I love them until their will falls. I finish unpacking and sit down on the couch, feeling a bit lazy and bored. I've grown resentful of those who are poor and below me, as I swing the stringed, furred ornament around my index finger, as I lie sideways on the white couch with my head propped on my palm.

I hear and see you come in, as I let out a sigh, one of longing and slight resentment, but I'm conflicted.

"Make yourself at home. Here, you are always welcome, especially in my arms."