It was cold that day and she needed a break.
The long day’s events had culminated with a last straw of uncontainable tomfoolery that left her with no other choice but to leave.
So she did. Hastily.
He watched her walk out without a smile and understood the feeling of having your emotions erupt after trying so hard to keep them from spilling over.
With that kind of understanding, words are redundant.
He looked out the window just in time to catch a glimpse of the tail lights racing down the street and out of sight.
The buzz of a text message pulled him momentarily from his distracted thoughts. It read simply, “I’ll be home… late.”
He set about the task of cleaning up the mess and making sure everyone had gone to bed before finally, thankfully slipping into the comfort of his own flannel sheets.
By now it was late.
His sleep was fitful. And what felt like hours of slumberous wrestling was in reality just over 45 minutes.
Just before midnight, he heard a low rustling from the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and a peek of light escaped through the crack in the door.
His imagination enhanced with sound… the creak of the medicine cabinet, the sound of brushing, water, and footsteps.
He didn’t move.
He recognized this story. Different but familiar.
She slowly eased herself into bed and pressed into him from behind. “I’m cold”, she said in a hushed breath against the nape of his neck.
She felt the icicles in her toes melt away as her bare feet found his and moved up and down, drawing heat from his calves.
His eyes were wide in the darkness. The contrast of hot and cold on his skin was electrifying.
“I didn’t hear the front door”, he said as he turned to face her, trying to make out her face in the shadowed room.
“I came in through the bedroom french doors”, she told him.
“I thought you snuck in through the bathroom window”, he joked.
He was about to speak again, but she quieted him with a smiling kiss.
“I’m cold”, she said a second time. He knew what she meant.
“I’ll take care of that” he said, pulling her closer…