Romance

There was a background noise of acoustic music and strong, shapely voices. The flavor of raspberry chai still tickled the back of my throat and clouded the smell of the frigid night air with sweetness. I was outside with the one I love, and we spoke in casual tones of many things: Puzzles far too complicated, free hot beverages, non-existant people, embarrassing personages, and the unforeseen talent of strangers.

At first, there were few flakes drifting gracefully down to Earth. One here, one there, one chosing to fleck my glasses with the tiniest little spot, each one lazily moseying downward. As the conversation progressed, and the eyebrows quirked, and the giggles over shared secrets at others expenses were had, the snow began to work harder. They started coming down in pairs, then in triplets, then in quartets. Then they multipolied in air, and their Kayleigh dance began to spiral wilder and wilder, like Strip the willow in three axis.

My mind begins to wander, watching the flaxes over the shoulder of my fellow devoted. I think to myself, how romantic is it to kiss in the snow? Among these icey dancers, the warmth of our hearts melting the flakes that grace our cheeks? What kind of a sigh could allow for such expression?

Thats when I look at him, and I say simply, head cocked and smile quirked, "You are awesome."

He smiled sideways, shakes his head, eyes downcast for the briefest of moments as his grin tweaks upwards at the corner demurely. "Sure, sure." And he steps back into the snow from beneath the safety of the overhang, hands extended ever so slightly from his sides, black coat dangling from his shoulders like a cloak. "Why? Because I appreciate the Romance of kissing in the snow?"

Thats when I look at him and smile, my body indepentantly of my whirling thoughts embraces him, and I proclaim my love for his ability to read my mind.