Cold Fairground

Frost gnaws at my bones, my muscles strike like a rebellious workforce. Icicles dangle from my desperate speech bubbles, each one carrying some variation of the word ‘help.’
Through the small window of the freezer cell I’m trapped in, I can see the open manual lying on the table. ‘What to do if the containment alarm fails’, just barely legible. The crucial instructions below are hidden beneath a travel brochure: ‘Surprising Lapland.’ The trip was a gift for my wife; our relationship had cooled off a little lately.
If all went well, her flight just landed at Helsinki Airport. She won’t return until she’s photographed the Northern Lights.