Dreams

It's cold and rainy. I just want to feel with abandon and call him. Forget my rule of never calling boys. Forget my rule of letting him lead and I decided whether to follow or not.

I want to call him and offer to come over and cook a big messy pot of chili. The kind my step-mother makes. Afterwards we'll wipe our cold noses and make a nest on the couch. He'll remove the back pillows so we fit perfectly. I'll be the little spoon; he'll be the big spoon. He'll wrap me in his blue itchy blanket and he'll flip through the channels and we'll mock whatever we watch. I'll beg him to light a fire and he'll turn me down, giving me one good reason followed by four bad ones. Just to drive the point home. He'll bury his face in my neck and readjust his arm around me with a squeeze. I'll lean my head back to meet his lips and everything else will be forgotten. Even the light rain on his balcony.

But that's what rainy days are for, right? Dreaming?

My microwave dinner awaits me...