Sept. 27, 2009

it has just rained.
automobile oil and grease make the puddles on the pavement shimmer rainbow colors. she inhales deeply before she slams the apartment door behind her and rushes down the glossy cement stairs. her numb fingers travel up her fleece coat. she struggles to fasten the buttons. her body hasn't adjusted to the cold. it takes longer to get dressed these days.
cold loneliness pushing its way out. frigid cold weather trying to get inside. a thin layer of warm summer battles both opposing forces, and even when the fight seems futile, it holds strong to the bone and muscle of her newly fragile frame.
headphones resting in each ear, she walks down the sidewalk, unintentionally stepping to the beat of the death cab songs flowing through her. she has their playlist on repeat. that's the way it's been lately.
she smiles at a young couple walking arm in arm, huddled close to stay warm. a knot forms in her chest, a similar one in her abdomen. the numbness has spread to her shoulders and lower back and as she reaches the crosswalk, it engulfs her thinning thighs and calves. she strives to maintain the warmth in her middle. she concentrates, focuses on the central heat and mentally tallies the days until she's back to her summer.
the bench never looked so welcoming. she can't feel her body bend and relax as she takes a seat next to a dark woman who rubs her hands together purposefully. she closes her eyes as her exhaling breath mixes with the frosted air and clouds her vision. it only takes a second until he comes to her, distinct and vivid, as though he's standing right in front of her. he's wearing her favorite sweater, the one she borrowed and covertly sewed a heart into the sleeve. she sees him concerned at first, but then he chuckles at her apparent desperation and his deep, warm eyes shine with the faith she always found comfort in. her heart lurches as her desire gets the best of her.
as she opens her eyes to recompose herself and steady her breathing, your song comes on and her body stiffens. the pounding coming from her chest feels like a foreign object, something she shouldn't have on her person. as personal as this song is, she refuses to skip to the next one. it would break some sort of unspoken code she's made for herself.
she picks nervously at the cuticles on her pale fingers and meditates on keeping her composure. her left hand impulsively reaches up and into her thick coat and behind her cotton t-shirt. she bares the golden cassette tape the size of her pinky that is carefully interlined with tiny rhinestones. she fingers the thin tawny chain and is then disturbed by an abrupt vibration coming from her right hip. she keeps a hold onto the tiny charm and brandishes her cell phone from her coat pocket.
as the screen illuminates, she checks her inbox and a single message is waiting to be read.

it's labeled with your name. your perfect name followed by a simple sentence. "I love you."
she feels a tug on her cheek and she's smiling a sweet subtle smile.

your song still echoes through the tiny earbuds attached to her iPod and the volume hasn't changed, but the song plays perfectly clear and full as though she's listening to it live. the warm ball in her stomach grows roots that spread to her frozen legs and toes. they twist up and through her tired back and arms. she shivers as chills from the temperature change flow over her exposed neck. her skin feels flushed and she welcomes the cool breeze that hits her face. it's not so cold anymore.

she hums along to the repeating chorus of "marching bands of manhattan" with the subtle smile still patched onto her glowing face. she cannot wait to see her summer again.