The First Frost

She awoke to the smell of bacon in a room growing slowly lighter, the shadows going from black to gray to an almost pale white...she rolled onto her back and pulled the hair away from her eyes.  She blinked, wondering if she was hungover and determined she wasn't...rather it was the lack of sleep...and she smiled, remembering looking at the clock when she finally collapsed against him, her mouth stung from the hours of being against his...being against him. 

The clock has said 3:34am. 

She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing she could conjure up a coffee...when she heard his footsteps returning.

He carried a small tray with a white cup of coffee and a glass flute with a Mimosa...he set it down, leaned over to kiss her briefly and told her he had to return to the kitchen.  Inside her something flared when he leaned over her, she tasted his toothpaste clean kiss and returned to the pillows.  The smell of the coffee warmed her but she reached for the flute first, the cold bubbles waking her further and the slight bit of alcohol a perfect continuation from the evening before.

The evening before...

It was cold, the type of wind that reminds you that Fall is fleeting and Winter is waiting...that evening was supposed to be the first frost of the year...the leaves stuck to each other by tiny fragile bits of ice.  The crunch beneath boots reminded her of her childhood as she walked to the barn to help her dad...

The sun rise in the smokey fog of a Fall morning...the licks of warmth barely enough to touch the skin, the tiny wet drops of the frost gleaming and then returning back into the earth.

He was like that, she supposed...a morning to wash upon her...if her day was encased in a slight layer of cold...of frost...he would appear and slowly she would warm and return...the bits of cold fading, falling from her.

She never felt warmer than she did now...well maybe last night...but here, in the first Frost morning of the year she burrowed in the sheets, pulled the blanket up against her and closed her eyes for a little bit longer, the scent of the coffee still drifting across her, the Mimosa now gone and her voice getting ready to call him to come join her at least one more time.