But baby, it’s cold outside.
It’s December; the snow is slowly getting heavier as each winter day passes. It’s cold, it has been for months; not only my skin, but what’s buried within. Looking through the memory stricken coffee shop window, I see him. He’s still yet to see me. I admire him from a distance, taking his is breathtaking features. His pale white skin and visible red nose; he was slightly ill, a cold, possibly. As I stand there, the cold, harsh wind nearly pushing me off my feet, I let my mind wonder back to when we first met in this exact coffee shop, hidden within the busy streets in New York City only a year ago.
The contrast of his eyes was almost unexplainable; It was something I, for one, had never seen before. The brown canvas that held small specks of green and blue was enough in itself to capture anyone’s abiding attention. His eyes, they made me feel safe.
There was simply something about him that I couldn’t quite pick. His fashion sense was remarkable for a nineteen year old boy. I chuckled under my breath at the thought of him dragging his younger sister out to go shopping with him because he felt that if he didn’t, he’d never be able to go out in public, or so he said.
I was still cold at this point; not on my skin, but what was buried within.
I had let my attention slowly drift away from the somehow endless stream of conversation that steamed from the two of us and let my eyes wonder upon his other facial features I had yet to explore.
It was after he had
