#my brain hates me and keeps insgining idealized romantic snapshots that realistically will never happen

[catboybiologist]

The fire roared in the iron stove, and I huddled on the couch in front of it. The warmth I clung to desperately fighting the icy cold of the cabin around it. When the chores were done and the sun grew low, I spent most of my days like this, waiting for the piece that would most be missed.

You walked in from the blizzard, and tore your work coat off, beating the crystals from your boots. Every bit of hard bitten, tough gal aesthetic left you as the weariness of the day hit you all at once. Gently, you snuck under my blanket, and laced your calloused hands and muscles arms around my body.

I melted into them freely.

Safe.

Warm.

Content.

Embraced.

You and me, in each other's arms, listening to nothing but the fire and the storm.