The second of a three part short story. If you missed the beginning, start reading here
My hands have no feeling.
My feet up to my lower thigh is numb. My stomach and chest is icy cold. I feel so light-headed I might as well faint. I have propped up my rigid body by a peeling black-painted gate which is pricking my back.
Someone stole my blanket, and now I am as good as a chunk of ice.