Hug?

Her dragging feet scrape across the cement. Cold fists are jammed into her pockets like tightly packed snowballs hidden away for an ambush. Her head pointed downward as if she is watching her step. Her face a dark, blank expression. She trudges to you, slowly, cautiously. Eyes o'erflowing with glistening brine she meets your gaze. Her bottom lip quivers like a fearful child and from her mouth are heard the words, barely audible and dripping with ache, "Can I have a hug?" You keep your hug and leave her there,
Weeping. Alone.

Comments

  1. riss18 March, 2010 01:24

    Whit...I love you.
    I hope...that this isn't a true story.
    And if it is...I hope it ends happily for you. Soon. I'm always here if you need me, k?

    ReplyDelete

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