Melting the Intruder

A lone ice cube sat sweating on a shallow porcelain saucer by the sink, daring to bring freezing chill into my territory. I didn't hesitate. I vaulted over the lip of the dish and threw a hard palm-strike right into its slick flank. The cube skidded instantly, spinning across the wet glaze and splashing icy droplets across my shins. It was slippery as an eel, but I lunged forward, grabbed both sides of the freezing block, and leaned my full weight over it. The cold bit into my plastic hands, but the ice shrank fast, leaving behind a wide ring of defeated meltwater. Cold never holds ground against me.