Him And I

Hell of a meeting

 Today was colder than usual.

 I could feel the cold as it penetrated through my afghan. I shivered as I stood up and pulled it around me. I had wore only a t-shirt and some pajama shorts to bed, and I was regretting it.

 It was like that a lot of times around here. Some mornings were colder than others. If it was just me I would shiver and bear through it, but the cold could be too much for my mother. At a time like this, I found myself making a small sacrifice and turning the A.C. up to 79.

  As I turned to walk back to the sofa, I caught a glimpse of outside through the window. There was only one window in the small apartment that I shared with my mom. It didn't have blinds either, just a old tattered sheet that I had draped over it to block out the cold and unwanted eyes.

 It was still dark outside, but under the lamppost I could clearly see the wind blowing more snow flurries onto the already white carpet that was the ground. 

 Sighing softly I turned around and headed over to the sofa to make it back up. There wasn't much forwards cushions, just one small pillow that I used for my head at night and the thin yellow afghan that offered me warmth. It was a gift from my grandmother when she had died to me. It was my last bit of her and I treasured it.

  After making up the sofa I went to the small kitchen and made my mother some oatmeal while grabbing her meds and a bottle of water. 

   I padded down the short hallway to her room. Leaning against the rickety door frame, I stopped for a minute to take her gaunt form in.

She looked so frail, although she was only in her mid fifties. Even in her sleep, she didn't look at peace.

   Stray hairs framed her face where they had come out of the braid that I had put in her hair last night. Her hair was brown, while mine was a deep black. Though she was pale, her skin still held a bit on a tan tint. Mine was a milky white. The only feature of her's that I had was her silver eyes. When I was younger and she wasn't sick, she used to tell me that I looked like my father.

  "Mom are you awake," I whispered. 

 Getting no response I quietly set the tray down on the floor by the bed. Gently I lay my hand across her forehead to see that she was cold,  grateful that I had decided to turn the A.C. up. Kissing my mother atop her head, I pulled on my wind breaker and headed outside the door.

 I wasn't tired as I walked the dark streets to the bus stop. I was used to getting up at six to catch the bus to school. It was my first year of college and I was working hard, as I had promised my grandma that I would, to make my way through school. 

 Some might think it crazy, but I liked the cold. It gave me a clearer mind and helped me to think. It was soothing.

 I had walked for about a block before I started to hear a tapping sound. It sounded like foot steps hitting the gravel. This early and in this kind weather I didn't expect anyone to be out. Swiftly I turned around hoping that I would catch whoever it was in the act, but I came face to face with a cat.

 When I was younger and my mom was stronger we used to have a cat. I loved that cat so much, we did practically everything together. One day I came home from school and me and my mom couldn't find it anywhere.

 This cat reminded me of the one that I had. It had the same fur pattern. Smiling at the cat I turned around to continue my walk, when I walked right into someone. Stumbling slightly, I looked up to apologize. "Excuse me, I'm sorry," I said to the stranger.

From his height and build, it looked as if I had bumped into a man. He wore a black beanie over his head, some dark colored jeans, and a light brown trench coat. To protect his body from the cold, he also wore black gloves and a black scarf pulled up over the bottom half of his face. Because of his beanie and the early morning darkness, I couldn't clearly see his hair that stuck out defiantly from under his hat.