Cold Night

It’s a cold night. Rain. Wind blows water onto the windows. Drafts fill the air outside.

Her hands are stiff and slick from the cold.

Breath steaming on the front porch, I enter. I take off my leather jacket. The collar was turned up, stiff and slick from the cold.

I slide in behind her as she reads, huddled around her coffee. I wrap my arms around her. My chin slides over her right shoulder. The wool of my sweater presses into the cotton of her shirt.

Every part of me wraps around every part of her.

The tension of waiting is gone.

I was cold. She was cold. But together, we are warm.

Cold days become cold nights.
Cold days become cold nights.