Cold Hands and a Warmed Heart

The television is muted, the only light source among the blackness. It's another sleepless night filled with memories. I squint, leaning forward, snatching the menthols off the coffee table. I pull one out before sliding my fingers between the cushions of the couch beneath me until I feel for the lighter that stays missing. Gripping it, I eagerly bring it up, place the cigarette between my lips, and flick on the flame.

It blows out. It's freezing, the temperature dropping at least ten degrees. My breath hitches in my throat. Not a second later, two thin pale arms snake around me from behind, coming down over my shoulders and plucking away the unlit cancer stick. My knuckles clench. I feel the weight of the figure. I don't move an inch, glued in position.

“Hey baby...”

The familiar voice rings in my ears. Gaining my composure, I feel her lips leaving a trail of light kisses along the back of my neck. My eyes slide close. I shiver, a fraction from the unsettling cold air, but the rest in response to the irresistible touch. I hum in pleasure and can't help myself from smiling.

Tilting my head back, the kisses travel to my jawline. My hand shoots up to bury in her ginger locks. I'm enjoying myself. A quick breeze hits me. My eyes open, she's gone. Sighing, I welcome the next round of loneliness.

“Annie...you left me too soon.”

A soft echo of laughter travels quietly in the air.