I’ve just stirred half a packet of hot cocoa mix into the mug of hot water that is now too hot to drink and I stare, waiting, as it emanates warmth onto my arms- reaching around the mug to type in data and reconfigure spreadsheets. This office where I am fake cold all of the time. Climate controlled. AC cold. Tea cold. It makes me ache for the summers I spent not in an office – summers of sweating stains into the couches at my parents’ house. We are never free from reminders that we could (should) have done the past differently.