I looked up at him from where I sat on the floor, my head at the level of his hip, and laid my head on his lap. The air in the lobby was just a hint more chilly than I would have liked, but he was warm, and it comforted me. My head swam with thoughts of the day, the events that had lined up, one right after the other, and tumbled over each other in a clumsy cascade. Washes of panic and calm swept through me, one after the other, over and over again. I pressed my forehead to his leg to block the light from my eyes and nuzzle at his jeans a bit; I felt his hand in my hair, and purred softly, letting him know the soothing gesture was greatly appreciated. The smell of him, his clothes, his hair, worked its way into my brain - he smoked, and the sweet aroma of his cigarettes and their smoke somehow calmed me, despite the fact that the scent usually sickened me or gave me headaches. Somehow, his presence made it a scent I enjoyed, but only from him.

My mind, wrapped as it was in his presence like the finest silk, drifted to the days that would lie ahead, and those that were behind me. I swallowed back a quiet sob and fought back tears valiantly, swallowing hard and pushing a smile into my lips as he gazed down at me, still running his fingers through my hair. I'd never looked at him like this before, never seen him so affectionate, and it made me rethink him, and the image I had formed of him in my brain. Suddenly, I found myself lucky to have his number saved into my phone, and thought to reserve that number for serious times when an ear to speak to would be needed. I knew in that moment he could be trusted, despite the unkind words I had received about him in the previous hours.





Perhaps I should pick up writing seriously again...