she paced outside

She paced outside, the cold rubbing up against her shoulders and her bare legs. Inside she was hot, turmoil raging from within. It was in the middle of the winter, yet she was outside in shorts, barefoot, feeling the melting snow in between her toes. They were red and numb, she had been outside for awhile. It was dark, the clouds covering much of the night sky, hiding the moon’s glow from her sight.

She continued to walk back and forth, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, shivering. She could hear his voice inside her mind, yelling at her, accusing her. Small, salty tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t aware of what she had done to make him so upset. Her feet slid on the sidewalk, causing her to cry out. She hit the wet concrete, her palms skidding on the rough surface, scraping her skin raw. She sat on the sidewalk, hurt, humiliated.

She crossed her legs under herself like a child, folding her arms across her chest, and released a deep, heavy sigh. She could feel the cold seep up through her shorts, her legs covered with goose bumps, turning redder by the moment. She didn’t want to move, wanted to stay there, turn into a statue, let the world pass her by.

A sound startled her out of her temper, turning her head to the side. She glowered in the direction of the house, seeing him stride over to her, shuffling his feet sheepishly, hands in his pockets. She breathed out steam, a dragon raging within. She stayed seated, every part of her body ice, except her face, her heart.

She listened as his soft footsteps approached, crushing the snow beneath the soles of his shoes. She closed her eyes, hot tears raining down her cheeks, evaporating as the winter’s winds blew their torture. Nature growled at him, the trees bending forebodingly towards his figure, howling from coyotes echoing off the hills, the snow melting faster than the weather might normally allow.

Her eyes glowed as anger emanated from them, beams of light meant to shine directly in his face. He held his head down, extending a hand towards her shoulder. She turned back around, facing away from him, too upset to acknowledge his presence. But she couldn’t ignore him, as much as she wanted to, even if he was standing there. She stood, not taking his hand. She caught a glimpse at his face, a small smile peeking out from the corner of his mouth. He laughs?

A fist flew at his chest, a half hearted attempt at declaring her state of war. He let it hit him, made no attempt to withdraw, or even stop her, though his smile was gone. She hit him again, and then a third time, the strength disappearing from her hands, her arms, her body. The cold was taking over her. He finally grasped her wrist, holding it close to his own body, pulling her in like a rope.

He put a hand, warm from keeping it inside a pocket, on her cheek, her tears smearing against it. He bent to kiss her, but she moved her mouth away from his, denying him the sweet sensation of her lips on his. She pushed away from him, annoyed at the lapse in judgment, for allowing him to hold her when she was still so rattled. But he held on, not letting her disappear in the darkness again. She started to bang into him again, with her open palms, slapping his arms, knowing he could barely feel it through his thick coat. She tired quickly, leaning against his chest, feeling it inflate and deflate with every breath he made, a heart beat slightly irregular, affirming its own uncertainty.

He wrapped his long arms around her, picking her up into them, carrying her back to house. She relented, knowing she could not stay angry, even if she wanted to.