a warm winter’s night

January. The harsh winter air spat at anything that dared step outside, as a cruel wind ripped and roared through the city streets. It was the sort of cold that seeped into one’s bones, chilling them from the inside-out. A bitter, violent cold.

That night, I barely noticed it, though. The frigid air parted in reverence as I walked along the river with her. Twinkling city lights danced across the water’s surface, making a dazzling display. Gorgeous, but it paled in the presence of her beauty. She led me to a spot overlooking a sleepy residential street, and we idly chatted by the riverside—the topic I cannot recall, only her brilliant smile and the melodic notes of her voice as she spoke softly to me. She rested her head on my shoulder and I felt like my heart might explode.

I should’ve kissed her then, but I didn’t.

She stayed close beside me as we strolled the mostly empty streets in search of a place for dinner. On her recommendation, we entered a small curry shop. A waitress guided us to our seats in the back, and we removed our coats, revealing what was underneath: me, in a simple white shirt and blue plaid skirt; her, in a long flowery dress. Our dishes were placed in front of us, but I hardly noticed. Normally, nothing can peel my attention away from a good curry, but in the presence of such beauty, how could I be bothered with such things? When she looked at me with those eyes, I was at once completely enraptured. Who wouldn’t be? She was just so pretty.

She invited herself over to my place, and I certainly wasn’t about to object. We laid on my bed beside one another—she lay no more than 20 centimeters away. I swear my skin was hot to the touch.

I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her, but I didn’t.

Our conversation stretched deep into the night. As the clock marched past its apex, I opened myself up to her, making myself wholly vulnerable against my better instincts. She responded with kindness and grace, and I felt understood in a way that I hadn’t experienced in years. My body was electric. It radiated so intensely, I could barely control myself.

Oh, but then that horrible moment! A lapse of judgement; a moment of insecurity; a severe miscalculation: I friend-zoned her.

It was an accident, of course. It sounds stupid, and I suppose it was. I couldn’t fathom that such a pretty girl could think that I, too, am pretty; let alone desire any form of intimacy with me! I wanted nothing more at that moment than to press myself against her, to show her how I felt about her, but I simply couldn’t reckon with the idea that such feelings could be reciprocated.

She left shortly after with a rushed, awkward goodbye. After the door clicked shut, I realized my mistake, but it was too late. She was already gone. I collapsed onto the floor and cried well into the morning.

As the sun peered over the mountains, I messaged her. We both apologized—what for, exactly, I’m not sure—but the damage was done. Things haven’t been the same since. Now we live our lives apart, devoid of one another’s warmth.

The nights feel much colder now.