Diana Pappas
Tempestuous
It was a winter night and there was a bite in the air. The snow had spent all day melting and refreezing into a crunchy slush that made icy wet sounds underfoot, it spent all evening seeping into my boot with the hole, the boot I kept saying I needed to replace and then kept not replacing. We walked and walked, never pausing to wonder if we should head into the woods that late. We walked and walked, my arm laced through yours, my hand hidden in your coat pocket, my fingers inventing a melody with your spare change. We walked and we walked and the air smelled of cold, the earth smelled of mud and of freeze and of thaw, your coat smelled of you. My nose was cold, it started to run, I sniffled. You smiled.
In the distance the trees swirled and swirled.
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