"WINTER"

(A fictional short story.)

There is no definite line between reality and dreams.

Fur coats and golden shoes.

Caramel syrup in lattes, powdered sugar on waffles.

Holding your hand, my nails are a glossy cherry red.

The way the smoke looks on a cold December evening. The lovely guitar songs played by lonely people on street-corners, bearing their souls on the sides of buildings for all to see. Pouring out their hearts for pocket change dripping into an old top hat.

He looked at me and before I could speak, he pressed his finger against my lips. I colsed my eyes and felt him carefully tuck a whisp of hair behind my ear. I opened my eyes and smiled. I adored the look on his face; the love in his eyes made me melt, despite the snowy weather. He leaned in and kissed me, and then I squeezed him tight. Our jackets made a funny noise ad I nuzzled my face into the fur that lined the collar of his coat. He smelled sweet like vanilla clove cigarettes and love. I never wanted that moment to end.