Tonight, under the dim light, I ate parpardelle with short rib ragu. I soaked up the remainder of rich red sauce with the bread at the table. I licked it off my lips.

For dessert, we split a slice of chocolate cake. I took greedy forkfuls of it and washed its sweetness down with cold, crisp water.

I left under a drizzle. The air was warm, easy to inhale, and the pavement felt fresh, anew. The snow was finally melting and the movement of the streams that formed between the sidewalk and road were illuminated by street lamps. I walked the mile home, admiring the closing of stores and the pedestrians under their umbrellas. I wondered whom they were going home to.

I was full, warm, and practically walking on air. Tonight, the first warm evening of winter, was nothing short of a gift.


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