Ferris Wheel

I met her on a Ferris wheel, all dirty blonde hair and smudged makeup in a ditsy-print dress that hung just before her knees. We were halfway to the top when her teeth started chattering, loud and echoing within the hollowness between her cheeks. Her nose was tipped in red and the dusky pink of her lips was stark against her snowy skin. I shrugged out of my jacked, hung it over her shoulders without a word. Our skin touched, and she was like ice beside me, almost burning to the touch. And she gave me this little half-smile, just as we reached the top of the world, which almost threw me off the edge.