Feet - Cold

“I don’t want to be cold anymore,” he said into the dark. “I don’t want us to be cold.”

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Yeah, I can do that.”

The door creaked behind her.

“I keep them in my nightstand,” he said, not looking at her. “I don’t know why. I just… I couldn’t throw them away.”

A long pause. The neighbor’s cat wound between the porch railings, gave them both a disdainful look, and disappeared into the bushes. Cold Feet

He looked up. His eyes were red, his nose running from the cold. He looked nothing like the man who’d proposed on a frozen pond. He looked better. He looked real.

“Then come inside,” she said. “And put the kettle on.” “I don’t want to be cold anymore,” he

They stood up together. Mark’s hand found hers—not the ring hand, the other one, the one that had been hanging empty at her side. Their fingers laced together, hesitant at first, then tighter.