black with white veins

New York was cold, white, and busy. The streets were a blur with fast walking pedestrians dashing in all directions. How we could stand so still on the sidewalk without profanities being yelled at us was amazing.

We were frozen in time, embraced for warmth and forever. I never saw him; he was in front of me, and I behind, reaching my arms around his waist clasping my hands together at his belly.

The back of his wool peacoat was pressed against the front of my thick fur one. A multicolored, flamestitched knitted beanie capped off the double breast, bringing a brief cloud clearing to the miserable weather.

We were vintage and progressive.

To our left was a building made of marble so glossy it mirrored all motions.  I stared at our stillness and my face. I couldn’t see his. His head was lowered, perhaps frozen in that position, protecting his freshly shaven skin from the snow.

There was an elevator to the right, across a walkway. Robert exited. We both looked down, hoping to avoid eye contact with him, but we didn’t move. We wanted him to find us.

I looked back at the black marbled surface and stared, waiting for Robert to show up in the reflection. He never did.

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