A story of the Cold Connection

The impact was jarring. Unexpected. Painful.

Not at all how it is in the movies. Nor the books. It was gross. Gritty. Raw.

His messenger bag had checked her hard in the stomach, no doubt several bruises itching to arise.

Her hot beverage stained his cream colored sweater, no doubt scalding on his bare hands.

Both umbrellas had been knocked into the dirty puddles, the sheets of rain unforgiving.

Despite the bone-chilling weather, ruined clothing, and bodily injuries, they couldn’t escape the buzzing intensity of a connection.

Her gaze was locked on the damping hair, wondering if the hue of blond was real. His gaze was pinned to her widening eyes, curious as to how many tints of blue he could identify.

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