The short story “To Build a Fire” by Jack London has always haunted me, having been in similar circumstances but surviving.
My mother read that to me as a bedtime story once. We agreed it was a very good story, and that bedtime was a very bad time to read it. 45 years later it’s still a vivid and favorite memory.
We read this every year in my English class. I’ve never had any complaints.
Yes.
Once a man has been cold, really cold, it’s never forgotten.