Fright

Maladie de civilisation.

Her fingers were as taut as a skinned chicken. And they had the same colour, too. When she cupped her hands to blow into them, the whiteness of her breath formed a stark contrast to the sky and now that she had stopped walking she could hear nothing but her own heart. Her pulse had become the pulse of the world.
She made a couple of steps forward which caused her neighbour's outdoor lighting to come to life. It illuminated a path that was not hers to go. She wondered: were the people happier when motion-sensor triggered lights had not been invented yet?