Warm Me Up

The coffee holds no comfort once it's lost its warmth. Half the reason Henry drank the stuff was to feel warm inside. The caffeine was a reprieve from sleep or at least it gave the illusion of wakefulness but the warmth was a reprieve from the cold, not on the outside kissing his flesh and robbing his cracked hands of moisture, but the cold felt under the skin, by his heart. Once you feel the cold inside it's hard to push away. He had never been a coffee drinker before she left but the day she walked away the cold took root and he needed a way to keep warm.

With the loss of light in his life all around seemed grey and bleak. It was winter so the outside world was a mirrored backdrop of his heart and he hoped that the warmth from the liquid would suffice until he'd find that light again. If he ever would. In the weeks after such a loss it seems impossible to see light ever again. To feel the connection ever again. To ever love again. He knew deep down somewhere that it wasn't truly impossible. People moved on, in time, and found something new. But for now he wasn't sure if he would.

But it turns out, if you give yourself the time and let your grip on the past loosen just a little, the world around can start to shine some light back in.

Sitting now, in the coffee shop, having neglected his coffee for long enough to make it cold, he sat stunned realizing he didn't need it's warmth. Something new walked into his sight, something bright and iridescent despite the waning sunlight from the windows. He caught himself staring and decided to look away but he kept taking quick glances to drink up the warmth she emanated not ten feet away from him.

She had long wavy blonde hair with touches of brown coming through. Soft eyes that were inviting,  in a way that showed a sense of kindness and pain behind them. Her smile, though now fading since the moment of elation was passing, filled his heart with joy. She was bundled up from the cold but she didn't seem to mind the weather or seem tense. A woman fully comfortable in her own skin. A source of light in Henry's grey world.

Tense now, afraid she'd notice him staring, he kept his glances to a minimum and started to drink his coffee again, though now thoroughly cold, to mask his face. He felt a tug in his chest to go say something even simply to complement her but he didn't move. He was transfixed at the sight of her, simply basking in her light. Feeling a tension in his chest as she laughed, smiled, and carried on with her friend.

Then the moment was gone. Henry blinked and the woman was walking away. To him time had slowed down to help him appreciate her for as long as possible but when time was up it returned to its normal speed and she was gone. The tension turned to regret as he scanned the room looking for her one more time but she was already outside getting into a car and leaving, to bring her light somewhere else.

There was something different now though. Despite the cold coffee, the cold wind blowing outside and the greyness of winter he didn't feel the grey within him anymore. That burst of light, like a star exploding, ejecting its stellar guts into the darkness, had rejuvenated something in Henry. A feeling that he assumed was impossible. That he could feel warm again, without the help of coffee. The warmth of love.

He had begun his cup of coffee with a frown and dejected look in his eyes, but he finished it with a faint smile. Walking out into the cold he embraced it head on holing on tightly to that light and new warmth burning inside him, ever so slightly. Ready to be himself again.