I peeled my back away from the wall and went to the winter woods. The cold cracked the trees – loud snaps like the ones that kid used to make in algebra by cracking his knuckles. It was as if he had fire-crackers for hands.
Here in an opening, the snow-devils twirled just out of reach, leaving circular kisses on the perfect, curvy skin of new snow. Wind peeled sheers off the abandoned long shed roof, all under a glorious sun. A voice somewhere in my head said, "You might not need to try so hard."
I unclenched my jaw and expanded my rib cage with a few breaths. The best advice.
I walked on, enamoured with this day. Full, until I noticed the coffee spattered down the front of my jacket creating some unsettling Rorschach pattern in Dark Roast, leaked on the sly through the gap of my poorly threaded travel cup lid. I cursed, quietly though.
