day 10984: of poker and chickflicks
If you had found me, last night would have been different. You’d have brushed the snow from my lashes and kissed me with a soft, gentle, lingering kiss. I’d have smiled and wished you a happy new year, and teasingly touched your oh-so-cold nose. Then you'd have grabbed my mittened hand and we’d run slipping and sliding through the snow.
Happy New Year.