Feb 20, 2021
It's raining, and it's a cold night in the hills. Wind chill and log fires and Razai with a hot water bottle and fog, kind of cold.
I sit soaking in the hot bathtub, sipping Old Monk with ice and dragging on my cigarette, looking at you across the room, reading a book and looking like the sum of all my desires. My heart skips a beat.
The joy of shared silences.
It's cold, and yet it's warm; time slows down, just like I want it to, and then you look up and look at me. Our eyes lock. Time stands still.
Like I want it to.