Early morning, winter air. I walk to your house. The familiar route a comfort. I pull my coat tight, dig my hands into my pockets. Walk past homes as they wake, lights flicking on. Kettles boiling. Days beginning.
It used to be I had somewhere to go, somewhere to be. Not anymore. Not since that day. The ice glistens on the pavements as I make my way, slipping on the black. Danger we don’t see.
I stop at the corner. Your house is sat in darkness. A shadow beneath the glowing street light. Today I don’t linger but turn into the biting wind.
I’d be back tomorrow. I knew the way.