Cold Feet Warmed

A gust rattled the shudders

through the corridor,

startling me after a night

of staring at the ceiling fan doing its thing.

I used circular arguments

and faulty logic as reasons for her leaving.

I tossed around being ready

until I was dizzy.

Then I concluded there wasn’t even a reason.

I wiped my eyes,

hoping she’d returned,

praying God had answered my prayers

that she’d rest on her half of the bed.

I turn, placing my hand

on the cold sheets.

I rose upright and slid

my feet into my slippers.

Warmth replaced the brisk

tension in my chest;

my mind was chasing the tail

of my regretful ambitions.

I moved down the hallway

and entered the living room.

Hannah stood, tears spread across her

cheeks with her arms folded

and her weight shifted to her back foot.

“I changed my mind,” I said, motioning.

“You mean it?” She brushed away tears, cracking a smile. “You mean it?”

“I do,” I said.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Website: https://drinkcoffeewrite.online/

Twitter: AC0040