Days were short and still getting shorter. There was shortage of sunlight and there was shortage of warmth. She was short of money, short of patience, short of love... And one could say she was short of merriness, as she was short of the affection she once had and lost. The kind she mostly needed now. Short of light, as days went by... and yet not entirely short of hope. And not exactly short of time. For days will be long again and, longing for them, longer will her love last... In short, let short days be. For the moment. For shortly after, short will become big.