You find yourself unsure of the strategy you should follow in the upcoming fight, unable to hedge on your bets on either your underwhelming offence or your shaky defence.I was vaguely aware of the chilling air around me as I noticed that Frost seemed to truly be focused for the first time that fight. The air seemed to shift around him as he manifested his ability and gathered his power, the temperature dropping all around us rapidly to dangerous lows. There was no doubt in any of our minds that this Frost’s arena, his home field and that he could and would shift even the environment around us into his favour.Frank, it seemed wasn’t one to be fazed though. Despite the fatigue he undoubtedly felt, he fired off an attack towards Frost which was promptly dodged by Frost by a mere sidestep. Frank had anticipated this though as he charged at Frost before his attack had even reached its destination, his palms ablaze in flames similar to the time he had first shown me his abilities.It was. Standing near the edge and about six feet from our man was a cameraman. He shouldered a big TV camera with several bundled cables leading away from it. About fifteen feet from the edge was another man in a dark suit. He held a corded mic and paced impatiently. When I saw him, I knew this was a TV show called 'The ReDating Game'. A flurry of details rushed at me that fleshed out the story. They answered the questions about why he was there; how he got there; who arranged it etc.? I saw the answers in a flutter of several less distinct images.In a final major and clear image, I saw our leading man and his long lost love. They looked like eight year olds holding hands and skipping along the sidewalk, frozen in mid skip. She was in a wide skirt with many ruffled layers under it. They didn't know yet where they were headed, but I saw what the show had arranged. About a block from the couple was an aged, small, horse drawn carriage for them. It was a weather worn brown, yet reminded me of.
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