Winter took hold fast while we slept. Green leaves are wrapped in ice until they hang white on dead limbs of sleeping trees.
The cold coffee in my hand feels as out of place as I do waiting in front of the coffee shop for someone who might not bother to show.
A tin of mints rattles in my purse as I bounce on the balls of my feet trying to stay warm.
I can't stop the doubt swirling in my mind. I shouldn't be here so early. I shouldn't be here at all.
Across the street bundled in a black jacket with a red beanie, I see his bright green eyes smiling at me. When a bus cuts between us I hold my breath, afraid I imagined him. But traffic clears and he's still there, smiling at me and waiting for a safe second to dart across the road.
The chill of winter fades as my cheeks burn red.
He's early too. Maybe I do belong somewhere, even if only for today and only in this coffee shop. Maybe I belong by him.
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