He comes home in the winter, when first the night is longer than the day.
We sit on his truck all night, hands entwined, lives on pause. He kisses me. The snow drives down hard, but we don’t notice.
We drive sometimes, beyond the mountains. Drive until we find our hideout. Here we hibernate. A new year comes. We are awake all night, giddy with wine and obsession. I haven’t looked away from him in weeks.
The snow melts. The nights get shorter. One morning, at the window, I see a snow drop in the grass. Spring is coming. He is gone.
#FLASHFICTION101 March 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY
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