I awoke after the flurries had ended, and glanced out the window. Her footprints left a trail in slush away from my apartment. She’d left that morning, after a night which made the howling blizzard outside sound like paradise. Her absence pulled the stitches from suture of my life. I knew I wouldn’t hear from her for a long time, but by then it would be too late. I’d be hemorrhaging by tonight, bled dry by tomorrow.
(excerpt from a the longer piece Storm Watching)
: andy l. kubai : writer : 