Slush | A short story
I breathe out, the white cigarette smoke indistinguishable from the thick clouds of vapor coming out of people’s lungs into the freezing air of the indifferent streets. I can see it’s warm and cozy inside the café, but I much rather stay out here. I was the one who invited him, but I can’t go in. I would love to tell myself “Come on, Kate. You can do it.” But I’m not sure I can.