I remember when I kissed you.

The Winter of Lies, we call it, looking back.

I had been sitting on my couch in my apartment, alone and contented, with a fire going in my pathetic excuse for a fireplace. I licked my finger, turned a page in my book, took a sip out of the mug of cocoa on my coffee table, and cracked my neck, pleased that the wooly socks on my feet were keeping me extra warm.

Rain was pounding down on the roof and lightning was dashing through the sky, slicing the world in half for a moment’s time.

The door knocker pounded.

I sat up, sloshing some cocoa onto my hand. I cursed gently and mopped it up with my sleeve, putting the mug on the coffee table and looking down in front of the fireplace.

My dog, Schweppes, was sound asleep. I could hear him dozing. If he was still asleep, there was no way anyone could be outside.

The door knocker knocked again, more persistent this time.

I stood up and padded to the door, noticing Schweppes stand and stretch, letting out a lazy Welsh corgi yawn. I looked through the keyhole, and I saw you.

You were standing there in your galoshes, looking furious at the unpredictable New England weather. Your blue eyes were raging and behind your brown cat’s eye glasses tears clung to your eyelashes. Your brown, wavy hair was one large poof, as you’d been walking to my house.

I stepped back, wordless, and let you clomp into my foyer/living room/kitchen. You were wearing that navy blue Yale hoodie that you loved so much, and it clung to your figure like a scuba-diving suit might. Your blue jeans were dark, dark blue now, and you were oh so furious.

I grabbed your arm and led you to my couch, sitting you down on it and turning you so that your legs dangled over the side. You pulled them back up and sat Indian-style instead.

Contrary little thing, you were.

I watched as Schweppes circled the couch before resting at the base of the couch, glaring up at you and growling. I tossed a balled up sock at him and he retreated into my bedroom.

I held up a finger: “wait here”, and I disappeared into my bedroom behind my dog. I dug through my dresser, finding a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. I got my spare hairbrush from the adjoining bathroom and went back to you, sitting behind you.

You didn’t protest as I teased your hoodie over your flaccid frame and whispered in your ear for you to unhook your bra, which you did wordlessly. I slid my sweater over your head and handed you the sweatpants, pointing toward my restroom.

You came back a moment later, holding your sopping wet socks and pants in your hands like they were some sort of offering to the washing machine gods. I set them on the floor on top of an empty Kroger bag and bade you to sit back down, which you did.

I brushed out the tangles in your hair. It was thick as a rope and soft as silk. I ran my fingers through it, separating each strand before brushing it out again.

I reached into the basket beside the couch and lifted out a hand towel (I usually used these to wipe my fingers on after eating a dinner of wings during a football game) and toweled your hair dry.

Once it was, I kissed the crown of your head gently; so gently.

You leaned back until your head was resting on my shoulder and you were almost in my lap, and then I removed your glasses and wiped them dry on my own shirt before putting them back.

And then, we kissed.

It was short and sweet, but contained more love than anything else this world could contain.

And when it was over, I reached over to the coffee table, picked up my mug, and held it to your mouth.

You paused for a moment, unsure, before taking a long sip and letting a small, contented sigh escape your lips.

I scooped up your limp frame and carried you into my bedroom, peeling back the covers and placing you under them, tucking them back in over you and fluffing the pillow resting behind your head.

“Ross...” you said softly. I placed my finger over your mouth and waited until it shut before I turned on the restroom light, cracking the door; and I turned off the regular light.

I had loved you to sleep.

I then retreated back to my cozy quarters, curling up on my couch.

The wooly socks on my feet were keeping me extra warm.

000!000

points to the middle of nowhere It came from there! This wrote itself in about ten minutes, and I must say, I love it. What do you think!?