Friday, August 7, 2009

He pushed his icy, mittened hand into hers.

“I can’t even feel my hand, it’s so cold!” She joggled their clasped hands in awe.

“Shut up, this is your fault.” Her flowered sneakers were dragging now, he was propelling both of them forward through the slush.

“Hey…hey John? I need to blow my nose.”

“I told you, shut up!”

He dragged her forward a few more steps before glancing back. She'd begun batting at her streaming red nose with her free hand, not doing much of anything but leaving a shiny trail of evidence on her sweater sleeve.

“Jesus, just, here, just… use this,” he stopped and wriggled a hand from his mitten, handing it back and beginning to pull her forward again in a fluid motion.

Bumping along behind, she blew her nose noisily. “Here you go,” she sniffled, passing the mitten back.

“I don’t want that back! You keep that! You’re really dumb sometimes, you know that?”

No comments:

Post a Comment