A blue girl sat alone in a cold dark room. In the centre of the floor she crouched, hugging her body, shivering from the frost that seemed to devour every surface of the room with each passing minute. Fumbling in her pocket she produced a single matchstick. She sighed with relief, gazing at the promise of heat to come. Striking it across her wrist a flame sparked to life, leaving a thick white scratch on her icy skin. Being made entirely of ice she mustn’t let herself get too close to the flame. Each time she warms herself by it, a piece of her melts and disappears, dripping to the floor, adding to the encroaching freeze. She doesn’t remember how long the temperature has been this low. The Public Service announcements through her wall-screen seemed to fizzle out a few weeks ago, or maybe it was months ago? It doesn’t…