Chill Love

The Bench

My feet rest on the cold wooden floor. The bitter feeling seeped through my knit socks. I quickly tugged on the warm boots I had only just bought the day before. I hadn't realized how quickly the blizzard would have moved in but I was glad that I had gone out the day before to get warm clothes and supplies for the coming winter.

I walked over to the closet, my hands shifted through the various assortments of coats. My fingers landed on the soft downy fox fur that surrounded the collar of my new jacket. The light leather would well protect me from the icy winds of Minnesota. 

I stretched to reach the top shelf. With a quick glance at my watch I began to rummage around, frantically searching for the small bin. My hands swiped past a hard wooden object. Just out of reach. I stood higher on the tip of my toes in an attempt to reach the bin. I had no such luck.

With a grunt of anger I dropped back down to my normal height. kicking the stepping stool out from under the low bottom shelf. Too rushed for time to bother with bending down and adjusting the position, I stepped up onto it. Alas, the bin was before me and I snatched it from its hiding place. Shakily I stepped back down to the ground. 

Upon finding what I was looking for, I rushed over to the mirror in the foyer. I checked over how I looked as I pulled on the knit beanie and leather gloves that I held in my hands. Everything in my outfit seemed to complement each other. my grey and black patterned sweater matched my beanie almost perfectly and the black from my jeans and jacket added dynamics. Whatever that meant. 

I smiled down at my rustic looking boots. The top folded over fashionably to show the pattern that would have remained hidden if not for the buckles that kept the top folded over. The red in the pattern added color to my dark outfit and the silver feather pendant that hung on my chest added the smallest bit of flash.

I grabbed my purse from the hook on the wall before turning toward the door. I flung it wide open only to have is slammed closed before I could make my escape. Philip stood, arms crossed, barricading the door.

"Does mom know you're going out?" he sneered.

"I left a note," I replied. He shook his head. "Philip, common." I shoved him aside, his small frame making it easier to move him. 

"Hey!" he shouted behind me.

I ignored him, twisting the knob, well prepared for the blast of cold air. I trudged out into the drifts of snow, the crunch of ice sounded beneath my feet. Shadows were cast by the dim street lights that illuminated the dark night. Giving off an eerie glow as I made my way towards the rendezvous site.

A single lamp post lite up the square. Beside it was a bench. It was the only quiet spot in town and my friends and I often met up here. Before taking the only bus out of town. As children we had believed that the bench was the only bus stop to heaven. But we all knew that there was no such thing. 

I stood beside the bench, underneath the lamp post, well aware that if I sat down I would be frozen to the snow covered metal. Shifting my weight from foot to foot looking around for my friends. I kept glancing back at the woods behind me. Secretly terrified that a monster of sorts would jump out and eat me. 

"Common guys where are you?" I grumbled, pulling my hands out of my pockets to warm them with my warm breath.

"Waiting for someone?" an unfamiliar voice asked from behind causing me to jump. I turned to face the stranger. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," a boy about my age said, hands held up in defence. A Starbucks cup held in one of them, steaming from the warm liquid it contained. 

He seemed to notice how much I kept glancing from him to the cup and back. Never quite able to decipher what to do. Before I could think of anything to say he spoke again. His accent odd and unfamiliar.