This woman has gotten under my skin.
She makes me want to be someone worth knowing.
Someone worth forgiving.
Her blanket has slipped. Exposing one shoulder to the cold air.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and tuck the blanket back around her.
My fingers brush her shoulder. The skin there is warm. Soft.
She doesn’t wake. Just makes a small sound and burrows deeper into the sleeping bag.
I reluctantly drag myself up and add logs to the fire.
It needs to be warm.
For her.
I arrange the logs carefully...
For her.
And blow on the embers until flames lick up the sides...
For her.
When it’s done, I stay there a moment. The heat feels good against my face.
I turn around.
My blanket is still lying on the sectional where I left it.
Close to her.
I should grab it and move back to my side of the sectional.
Should maintain that careful distance.
But... I don’t.
I settle back down. Grab the blanket, and shift even closer than before. Not close enough to touch, but...
Close enough that I can hear her breathing.
Close enough that the smell of her coconut shampoo reaches me.
Close enough that if she opened her eyes right now, she’d see exactly how I’m looking at her.
Like she’s something precious.
Like she matters.
Like maybe I’m not as alone as I thought I was, if I can find it in me to lower my walls.
For her.
Outside, the storm continues its relentlessly assault.
