Is it accurate that I feel like using the term unseasonably cold for the weather here in Texas? It's terribly cold outside. Frankly, it's cold inside. My bones are feeling chilly.
I broke out a jacket I haven't worn in years. Perhaps the feel of cow leather and nostalgia would warm me. It does it's best to block out winter. Not so bad, but not so great either.
My hands, they go unprotected. I'm knitting them into armpits trying to catch whatever bit of warmth I can manage. It's the cold that knocks out my sense of reason and causes me to forget that jackets have pockets. Into them, my hands finally go.
A scrap of paper. No, it feels oddly different than the normal detritus that I keep there. Usually a collection of gas station receipts for cigarettes snuck while my parents weren't looking. A gum wrapper for the spearmint I gnawed on to cover it up. A ticker tape jumble of a careless youth.
No, this certainly felt different. Even with my blind and numb hands, I could feel the sharp creases of intentionally folded piece of paper.
Curiosity piques me and I dig the scrap out of the pocket. Opening the first fold I read an apology.
It's the apology of a shy young man I once knew very fondly. He's tired and the first thing he decided to do that morning was write this very letter to me. He's saying sorry about how clumsy he appeared after our first date and how even clumsier this letter appears. But, he doesn't apologize for what he really wants to tell me...that he likes me and that he'd really like to get to know me.
I'm a little giddy at finding this letter. A bit warmed even. It's the last time I remembered someone going out of there way to tell me they cared for me. That doesn't happen as often these days. But it happened once. I remember.