"It matters how this ends. What if I never love again?"
Adele
We drunkenly climbed the stairs. Having spent the better part of a cold night in an underground martini bar in Cherry Creek. Me, drinking Apple Martinis; you, drinking a little bit of everything. We talked all night. We laughed all night. I remember you slumping in the white vinyl booth in the corner; white booth, white hoodie. Relaxing like we were at your house or my house. It was late- we were amongst the last in the bar. The waiter indulgent but ready to go home. We got the check and left. Drunkenly climbing the wide stairs.
It was cold. The kind of cold that only Colorado can manufacture. The sky pink in the middle of the night. The air so cold that it freezes your nose hairs upon inhalation.
"Fuck it's Cold!" you say, tugging up your hood.
I have on a hip hugging jean skirt, long sleeved shirt, and faux fur vest turned inside out to warm me. I put my hands in my pockets and start to hustle. As we hit the top step the snow starts to drift lazily. Big fat crystal flakes.
In the middle of the street. In the middle of Cherry Creek. In the middle of the night. There is... silence. I am in awe of the beauty of the moment. I am a little drunk and a lot in love.
I stop to stamp the memory in my brain. I never want to forget.
"Kiss me" I say.
You do not hesitate. You do not question. You simply turn and comply. Our bodies do not touch. Our hands do not move from our pockets. Just lips. You kiss me. Soft at first, then with tongue, then teeth. Nipping at my lower lip. I moan or groan, I am unsure which. You straighten. Shake your head a little.
"Lets go to my house" you don't utter it as a suggestion. Not a question. It was a command laced in a plea.
I nod once and move to get in the car.
I realize that all of the parts of me that were cold are warm. I marvel at the idea that a touching of my to your lips generates enough heat to warm my entire being. I re-stamp the memory and we drive off.
A perfect memory crystalized in fire and ice.
A
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