january.

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it’s cold here.

it’s one of those days where one has to dig deep into herself to find the warmth she stored there in august for safekeeping. supplies are scarce among my belongingsand my feet are itching to carry me outside, to move quickly and without direction in search of contact. the frosty air bites at my nose and fingertips as i stand on the corner, watching. 

the sun rises and sets. people walk on the highline and make out in movie theaters and share tapas at the tiny place down the street. they sip cappuccinos out of red holiday cups and get flu shots and daydream about each other at work. they bundle up carefully and run to the liquor store to pick up sparkling wine to celebrate nothing at all. 

it’s the lovers that make things spin here. the sidewalk craves their footsteps, sighing as fancy shoes meet pavement. they move carefully but deliberately, lighting up the city, maintaining its energy supply.

the city is cold and bare but it’s warm there, pressed between those bodies. their warmth is contagious, infecting every innocent passerby, planting a tiny seed of heat somewhere deep in their chests that will burst forth when they’re least expecting it, taking the form of a shy smile or a held door. this heat, these moments of compassion spread slowly, lighting up the world as the sun rises and sets, as we continue to turn and turn.