Cliff
Cold.
Cold hands reached out to mine, briefly squeezing.
Cold cheeks, pale as the snow, grew even whiter.
Distant eyes looked up at me foggily, and my body unfroze.
He was awake. He would be alright.
I promised to be right back and sprinted away.
Cold wind rushed past me, snow flakes hitting my frame unheeded,
as I ran to the inn.
Cold, determined voices followed me out, purpose filling their
minds.
He was still in the square, lying on the frosted bricks.
When we lifted him up, his eyes didn't open and his fingers,
as I rubbed them in my hands, were like ice.
The clinic's lights burned much brighter than the light outside,
the sun dim behind the snow filled clouds.
Cold hands, warming up, slipped a picture into mine as their
owner gazed up at me.
Lonely.
Lonely eyes searched mine as I asked about that picture.
Lonely words escaped his lips as I listened.
His eyes sparkled with emotion as he mentioned his sister,
who was nowhere to be found.
Eyebrows came together, he told of his mother.
She had died when he was away from home.
He sadly, guiltily said that if he hadn't left he wouldn't be alone,
his sister would be there, his mother would be alive.
Lonely eyes looked to me and seemed to question, "Do I
deserve to be lonely?"
I was silent for a moment, studying his hands clutching the
sheets and the tired bags under his eyes.
Lonely eyes watched as I shook my head and reassured.
Ill.
Ill in bed, he stayed at the hospital.
Ill from the cold, ill from his heartache, ill from his sorrows.
The doctor nodded to me in greeting as I entered the
curtained room each day.
Elli would smile not-so-secretly to herself when I walked past.
Ill and soon to be better, but sleeping and sleeping.
He would mumble a name, a place I didn't recognize, and then
toss and turn slowly.
Ill but recovering, grumbling in his sleep and sighing sweetly.
Ill in bed, he rested and I visited him everyday.
Full.
Full of energy, he said hello as I passed the vineyard.
Full of thanks, he eagerly showed his gratitude.
I received his words modestly, barely looking up.
Running on empty, he took me to the inn and we ate lunch
together, the sun setting outdoors.
Full to the brim, I laughed as we talked on the way home.
He walked me to my door, and then put gloved hand softly
on my shoulder.
"Claire, I can't thank you enough for being here for me.
You've helped me so much."
With that he left, and I stood in front of my dark house silently
in the snow, looking at his large footprints.
Full of love, I peeked around the corner and watched his
retreating form turn the corner to the inn.
Full of energy, my heart thumped double time.
Feeling.
Feeling brave, I knocked on his inn room door, knowing Gray
wouldn't be in.
Feeling nervous, I heard the doorknob spin and he suddenly
filled the doorway.
Feelings I couldn't read played in his smile and his eyes.
I handed him a little yellow and pink wrapped box and his
eyebrows rose quizzically.
His fingers pulled the bow apart gently and he lifted the lid of
the box.
Chocolate cookies still warm from the oven.
Cheeks pinker than the bow, he looked up, surprised and
shyly happy.
Feeling brave, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.