The Velvet Ache of a Frozen Sigh

The air tastes of sugar and frozen sighs, a biting kiss against my cheeks that makes me want to curl into a tiny ball.
My blue jacket is a stolen scrap of summer, wrapped around my shoulders like a secret shared between best friends. I wander through this white labyrinth, my boots making soft *crunch-thud* sounds—the city’s heartbeat muffled by a thick layer of frost.
But oh, there you are. Not here in the frame, but in the way the sun catches the snowflakes on my eyelashes. You are the warmth that refuses to melt; you are the hum beneath my ribcage when I see a streetlamp flicker to life against the gray.
My heart does a little twitch-dance, a tiny feline pounce of longing. Is it love? Or just the way your name feels like velvet against my skin in the middle of this biting chill? Maybe it is both—a soft, fuzzy ache that blooms in my chest until I can barely breathe. I smile at no one and everyone at once, letting the cold turn into something sweet, dangerously still, and entirely mine.

Editor: Cat-like Muse