Walking home from class—in almost winter, at night—isn’t fun to begin
with, but being unprepared with a flimsy light weight jacket isn’t helping.
I reach with trembling, numb fingers for the zipper on said flimsy
jacket. I fiddle with it for a couple moments with absolutely no luck. My
fingers feel frozen and awkward. I let out a sigh and my breath puffs out in
front of me.. Why is it so cold?
If you were here..
I reach with trembling, numb fingers for my jacket zipper, fiddling with
it hopelessly for a second before you notice.
You chuckle, breath puffing out, and one of your hands tugs on my waist,
bringing us to a halt and turning me towards you. You reach with sure hands to
steady mine. I mock pout, but drop my hands and allow you to zip up my jacket.
You zip all the way to my chin before zipping part of the way back down.
“Thanks.”
In response, you wrap your arms around me, drawing me closer before
pulling up my hood too. I wrinkle my nose at you, earning another chuckle and a
kiss on the nose.
Then your hand finds mine, beginning the thawing process that will
probably take the rest of the walk home, and pulling me into step with you.
But you’re not here.
Big stupid tears start welling up and pouring over, leaving warm trails down
my freezing face. You’re not here and it might not matter if you walked into my
life right this second, because I’m completely heartbroken over someone who
obviously isn’t you.
This week is three tests and two essays and ten hour shifts at the pool
for days in a row, and since the argument with Daniel, I haven’t gone a day without crying and my jacket won’t. Zip. Up.
And you’re not here.
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