It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

13 | | | H | | | . . . . | . . . . | . . . . | . . . . | |
"Put a blanket."

what do you think my name is

Style

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.