Monday, February 23, 2015

Drunk and Cold

I didn't have that much wine with dinner - did I?

The thin, cold air that might as well be the vacuum of space, tonight seems almost syrupy to my slightly inebriated senses. The dog, in her little red latex booties that we put on her flipper-like feet to keep them from burning in the salt they've scattered over icy sidewalks, can't seem to do anything but run from one pool of light to the next, and I wrap her leash around my hand three times to shorten it and keep her close so she doesn't accidentally run out into traffic and get herself killed.

A little girl in pajamas yells down to her father from a window, "It's too cold out here - gotta go!"

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