Pinky Promise?

Isolated streets, no one wants to be outside—it is much too cold. A safe haven for lunch at 4pm. Undercooked sweet potatoes for dinner. Singing our hearts out to the music that made us friends. We kept our coats on, dancing, thawing until we walked outside and those droplets down my stomach froze. Penne and a mealy tomato because it’s November. We tip-toed around the kitchen getting drunk off of cheap dark beers that tasted good to our empty stomachs. Time for pasta and then sleep. I will hold this night like golden water slipping through my hands. I did not say I was in love with you.