It was cold. Where she would be going, it was even colder.
But she hoped to meet that warm heart to compensate for her emptiness.
The icy wind hit her face like a pointy metal palm.
But his hand was warm and his eyes were kind.
Their enthusiasm was obvious.
Bright eyes, big smiles, intense hugs.
February 11th, 2015.
She sits on the floor, just finished her dancing class.
Pleasantly tired, she admires her reflection on the mirror.
It's cold outside.
Dancing is redemptive, a perfect antidote to cold and pain.
She wishes she could dance more, sweat more, cry more.
Then maybe this revolting feeling would at last wash away.
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