She led me by the hand, into the dark of her apartment over the luncheonette. I stood still in the mystery of her kitchen, while she closed and locked the door. She knew her way around in the dark, I was as good as the amateur blind. She walked up and put her arms around my waist, pulling me to her. I put my hands between the waterfall of her hair and the back of her neck. Her hair was scented with the chill of the outside night air, and her skin was smooth. She was wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt. It was winter.
