I huddled in my little cave and tried to stay awake.

"How did I get here?" I wondered.

I remembered waking up to warmth, a loud, rumbling noise and an empty belly. Thinking winter was over. I went outside, out of the house, ready to get something to eat, only to find myself in a world of white and freezing.

Confused and sleepy, I ventured out into the whiteness, making dents in the snow along the way.

It was cold. Like nails, driving through my body. But it didn't penetrate my brain until I had gone at least a mile forward.

I kept going, hoping that eventually I would find home again, but only succeeding in getting even more lost. Finally, I had to throw in the towel and dug a cave in the snow. I shivered and brought myself closer. Preparing myself for something I never thought I had to prepare for.

I know this cave will be my grave. I knew it, yet I felt so calm, why? Shouldn't panic be setting in now? Maybe it was the cold, or maybe I knew I could do nothing to avoid it.

What had been the warmth that had lulled me here? I tried to visualize it, the moment I woke up. It wasn't easy.

I saw my bed and my room. Neither could have been the cause

There had been a huge machine, I recalled, a huge, metal thing that simply radiated heat and sound. A sound that was awfully like the one I had heard when I had first woken up.

Mystery solved. I found myself nodding off, there was warmth here, was the machine here? Was I close to home?

No. My realisation woke me with a jolt, the warmth was coming from me.

So this how it felt. I stopped fighting it and allowed to seep over me. Slowing down my heartbeat, my thoughts, my body.

I raised my head one last time. Strange.

How did the moon get here?

My head dropped with a thud that nobody heard.