Conjuring perfection

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November 29

The skies cleared today and the sun returned from a three-day holiday in the Bahamas. The air warmed up, the colors crept out, over the trees, flinging themselves into the breeze, brightening the blues, the reds and browns of roofs and onto the few lazy leaves still hanging on. I stepped into the porch and country music followed after me. It finally felt like it was day – a bright, beautiful early winter day, crisp and cold. I leaned forward with my elbows on the rickety wooden banister and you came out to stand next to me.

‘Why are your hands so cold?’ you wrap your warm hands around mine.

‘Because I’m about to die,’ I lean my head on your shoulder.

‘There’s gotta be more than this…’ drawls a country singer.

No, I tell her.

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