by Tucker Leighty-Phillips
The snow sprinkled our bodies like powdered sugar topping a dessert. I grasped your hand through your maroon,
knitted wool gloves. We made our way down the icy sidewalk, carefully plotting each step to avoid slipping. I had not
prepared for the weather, and the wet snow barged its way through my canvas shoe and into my socks. You kept your
body close to mine, giving off a warmth, but not just a physical warmth. The kind of warmth that feels like the bright,
morning sun shining in through the windows of your soul. The kind of warmth that makes you want to stay in a
moment forever. The kind of warmth that makes you forget all about the flurrying snow, the slippery ice, the wet
socks.
knitted wool gloves. We made our way down the icy sidewalk, carefully plotting each step to avoid slipping. I had not
prepared for the weather, and the wet snow barged its way through my canvas shoe and into my socks. You kept your
body close to mine, giving off a warmth, but not just a physical warmth. The kind of warmth that feels like the bright,
morning sun shining in through the windows of your soul. The kind of warmth that makes you want to stay in a
moment forever. The kind of warmth that makes you forget all about the flurrying snow, the slippery ice, the wet
socks.
In that moment, we were both warm, and like dropping a coin in a meter, I bought myself more time. You would love
me a little bit longer.
me a little bit longer.