Cold Hands, Warm Heart

“So this is where I live.”

They sat on the grass in the park that ran alongside the river. The blanket laid out underneath them was warm from the sun, but the breeze was brisk and necessitated the fleece she wore. Her hair whipped about wildly and she did nothing to restrain it. She enjoyed the freeing feeling of her hair in the wind.

“It’s quite nice. The architecture is certainly interesting,” he said in reference to the bowl-shaped building she’d taken him to along the plaza.

“Haha, yeah. But the acoustics are wonderful for music shows. Hopefully if you’re around you can see firsthand.”

You’re quite nice.”

She turned her head to take him in and smile at his kind words. She said nothing but the curling up at the corners of her mouth was all the response he needed. Turning back to face the sun, she closed her eyes and quietly soaked in the mid-afternoon.   Leaning back, she propped her hands behind her and accidentally brushed her fingers against his and felt them cold to the touch.

“Oh! My, your hands are cold.”

He leaned forward and rubbed them together and gave her an apologetic grin. “Sorry, about that.”

“No, it’s all right. Just surprised me is all. Here, let me see them,” and she reached for his offered hands, taking them and placing them on either side of her face, raking his fingers into her warm, dark hair that had been taking in heat from the sun’s rays since they sat down. “Hold them here and see if that helps.” 

An urge overcame him that he couldn’t pass. This girl, this darling girl, so giving, kind and mellow, was absolutely lovely. Her eyes were so welcoming and when she grinned at him flirtatiously he knew that he wouldn’t be overstepping his boundaries when he kissed her. He overtook her mouth and she returned his affections, sighing and with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes closed and feeling every electric surge that coursed through her.

“Welcome to my town,” was all she said. “Let’s go home.”

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3 comments

  1. It almost damning with faint praise to describe this story as “sweet,” but that was my first reaction. Specifically “Aww, how sweet.”

    It really conveys a sense of looking in at an intimate, private moment without being voyeuristic. It’s an idyllic slice of life that leaves the reader contemplating the most important question they can ask of an author’s work: “What happens next?”

    One slight criticism is that in a piece this short a more limited third person point of view rather than the omniscient might be better. Have the reader discover his intentions as she does or vice versa, but that’s really just pedantic nit picking.

    1. Thank you! And I appreciate the constructive criticism.

      My intention with the piece was to kinda convey this budding relationship as positive, and show how open they both allow themselves to be both with the guy visiting her from (presumably) a long distance and the freeness with which she offers up her heart. Her “let’s go home” is meant to be a metaphor for the bigger picture.

      1. It comes across really well. Particularly the metaphorical implications of what home means to each part at the beginning and end of the piece.

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