Writing Prompt #8: Misty Morning Waiting

I look at my watch. 3:58. Any minute now.

I blow on my hands to warm them, then rub them together and shove them under my armpits. Moving slightly on the spot, I jiggle my legs to warm up. Although the heavy winter gear keeps me warm, staying idle lets the cold creep in. It also stiffens your face. I don’t think I could frown right now if you paid me.



Rocking back and forth from my heels to my toes, I stare intently at the house. A thick mist blankets the rustic old building, a chilly cover that traps the cold.

My watch beeps and I immediately press a button on its side to silence it. A few seconds later, I hear the distant beep of an alarm. A light comes on in the house. She is silhouetted against the thin curtains. She stretches, arching her back. I shiver. Not from the cold. Now, my body is warm, hot blood pumping through all my extremities.

She disappears. My eyes shift to the next window. The light comes on. And there she is; thick brown hair falling over her face as she leans against the sink to fill the kettle. The dog barks and I crouch down. It runs around to the front of the house and jumps up to the kitchen window. She pulls up the window and hold out the rind of last night’s steak. The dog takes it gently from her hand and trots off, tail wagging.

Unprotected, she’s open. It’s my time now.


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