I met the Frozen Man in the Spring. You'd think with the changing of the seasons he'd be thawing out. But I guess when you're that frozen, seasonal changes don't really affect you. He didn't live in an igloo or a spooky industrial basement like you might imagine. He was just like everyone else, except he was frozen. He worked in an ice cube chopping plant because he didn't mind the chill.

One day he was making a delivery at the corner market and I came upon him unloading his ice cube truck. We got to talking, and I was struck by his condition. I told him I was having a barbeque and asked if he would like to come. He said thank you, he had never been to such an event.

His arrival shocked the guests. But I was happy to see him. He stayed away from the fire pit, but made a few friends by offering to chill their drinks, which he did just by holding them. Later in the evening I caught sight of him enviously watching the guests dance. I realized that a frozen man probably couldn't dance very well, so I went to sit beside him on the porch swing.

"Sip of whisky?" I offered.

"No, thank you."

"So...were you born like this?"

"As far as I can remember," he said.

"Is it just an outer layer or are you frozen solid all the way though?"

"Nobody knows."

"Well are you made of water?"

"One mineralogist thought I might be feldspar. And a chemist thought I resembled fibrous gypsum. But they never could determine my composition so I'm afraid this is it for me."

For some reason I felt close to the Frozen Man. As close as one could feel to a frozen man.

"Maybe I can help you."

"Oh, I've tried everything," he said, staring vaguely into the distance.

"What about the Ibex Desert?"

I picked him up the following Saturday and we drove East. I brought a wide variety of chili peppers, ginger candies and other spicy foods that I thought might help. When we got to Junction 239 he smiled, because his hand, which was sticking out of the window, started to drip droplets on the highway. I smiled back and turned South into the sun.

I led him to the top of Seven Devil's Peak.

"We'll be closer to the solar radiation up here," I explained. "It might melt you down."

But he kept scraping his knees and chipping off, exposing even firmer ice below his surface. Was he frozen.

"It must hurt to be so cold," I supposed.

"I'm used to it," he whispered, frustrated, picking himself up and carrying on, stumbling all the way.

I decided the rocks weren't helping.

"The sand dunes will be better."

I turned us both around. "Just wait 'til you see those sand dunes."

We traversed Moon Dune Monument's most expansive and breathtaking dunes. The only sound we heard was our breath in the open sky. It seemed like we might be on a distant planet, just me and the Frozen Man. But the more he exerted himself, the more frozen he became. Some kind of faulty mechanism in his thermo-dynamism, I guessed.

I showed him how to slide down the gold dusted dunes, certain the heat waves would melt him down. But he just got sandy. At the bottom of a dune he turned to me.

"I'm afraid it's no use."

His ever-present frost billowed off of his body and we sat in silence. I rested my head on his cold shoulder. It felt good under the blazing sun.

"Maybe we should just go home," he said, defeated.

But I had one last idea.

We stopped by the car to get a magnifying glass, and then continued on, gathering dead Joshua trees and dried juniper twigs for the next four hours. The Frozen Man struggled to hold everything and he still kept slipping on the sand. Finally, we made it to a cave decorated with arrowheads on the archway and settled there for the night.

"Throw it all in the pit," I instructed. "We're gonna build a real fire."

I showed him how to use the magnifying glass and the sun to start a fire, and soon there was a burst of bright flames. He began to warm his hands in the fire, and droplets started to run down his fingertips once again.

"I think it's working!" I exclaimed.

But within seconds, his liquification extinguished the fire and his face fell with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Before I could tell him not to worry, he was off, hightailing it into nightfall at light speed.

"Come back! We'll build another fire tomorrow!" But only the violent wind responded as he disappeared and joined the desolate shadows in the distance.

As I fell asleep that night I worried. What was to become of the Frozen Man? Perhaps I should have left him alone. When dawn broke, I crawled out of the cave and set out to search for him. I wandered for hours over rocks and dried up creeks, avoiding snake holes and poisonous plants, calling out for the Frozen Man. I began to get tired and hungry and was starting to lose hope.

But then, in the distance, I saw great billows of smoke and mist and a silver river flowing in the middle of the desert. Hot and confused, I descended quickly and ran towards the river which had not been there before.

I waded through the smolder. It had a strange and spicy aroma, like chili peppers and ginger. Surrounded by smoke was the Frozen Man, sitting beside the burning car, holding two broken side view mirrors, angling one at the sun and the other at his chest. He was devouring the last of the peppers and drinking the last drops of hot sauce straight. Only he wasn't frozen anymore. He was raw and fleshy and his clothes were soaked and I could see his face clearly, without all the frost and ice cracks.

"I'm sorry I burned up your car," he apologized as I approached.

I splashed speechlessly through the silver river. He tried to stand, but lost his balance and slipped. I knelt down before him and watched in awe as the melted substance, whatever it was, that once encased his body meandered its way across the dry desert floor. I reached for his hand beneath the glistening water. He let the mirrors fall to his side.

"Your...hand. It feels nice."

"Thanks..." I answered.

"Are you mad about the car?"

I swept his smooth hand across my face, mesmerized by its rawness.

"Not really. Did it hurt?"

"A little."

I helped him to his feet and we waded, dripping wet, out of the river. As we headed down the highway for the city, we turned for a last look and saw wildflowers flourishing along the silver banks of the Frozen Man.