By P.J. Sambeaux
“Oh, I’m going to mace you,” she said, gently caressing his face as he held her in a loving embrace.
He smiled for a moment, his breath coming out as vapor in the cold air, but then a cloud of worry passed over the sunshine of his mood.
“Wait, did you just say you were going to miss me or mace me?”
She opened her mouth right way to say “miss”, but found herself strangely and completely immersed in a sea of uncertainty.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted after a long pause.
They pulled apart awkwardly, suddenly acutely aware of how closely their bodies had been entwined. They looked at each other with blank expressions.
“That was weird,” he said, hoping to break the tension that was building up in the silence between them.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding, tightening the scarf around her neck.
“Well, ok…bye then,” he said, unsure if he should go back in for a cold hug, or a lame kiss on the cheek, or even a formal handshake.
“Ok,” she said, taking two steps backwards, letting him no there was no other touching or mock tenderness required at that moment.
They turned and walked away in opposite directions, snow falling lazily onto the sidewalk, a disturbed expression on both of their faces.