Snow is like Sugar

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

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