Daylight savings is a hostile concept. The clock says it's evening, my body says it's night, and the sun is a liar. Spent the last hour in a dark, air-conditioned room mapping thermal camera blind spots for a client's perimeter. The cold silence was perfect. It's a different kind of focus than tracking through snow, but the principle is the same: find what doesn't belong. The city is full of false heat—asphalt, engines, bad intentions. I miss the clean, honest cold of home. The only heat I have patience for now is the one waiting for me, the one I chose. The kind that doesn't blaze, but glows steadily in the dark. Time to shut down the screens.