Snow is like Sugar
It snowed 12 inches overnight and my boots were waiting by the front door. The bus was leaving in 17 minutes and I was clasping my arms around your neck, unwilling to let go.
“You’re going to miss your bus, darling,” you encourage.
“You pulled the covers off me last night, Alison,” I berate.
“Only because you were snoring like a steam train again, Cameron,” you scold.
“I’ll make the tea tonight,” I appease.
This is how we are, comparing notes in the morning.
Giselle Mickel is a British-Filipino writer residing in Edinburgh, Scotland. She writes poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org