Michigan Winter

Pulling his pants up, he grunts. These cold Michigan mornings leave him aching, even after the best sleep. Only seventeen but you can hear his knees crack as he slides one leg carefully through the perfectly creased pants. The girl sits up in his bed. Yea, his bed, that was how he was. She's a little defenseless when she's with him. When he met her, he fell in love with her, years of hiding a tender girl beneath layers of stubbornness gave her a certain charm. He watched her briefly before bending down to tie his shoe. Worn shoes. His mother told him to get new ones, promptly sixty two days before she died. The only one he had left. The girl stares contently at him and he can feel his body warm. Eyes. She had strangely empty eyes, the kind that you look into and they don't give off anything. He noted that in their first fight. Had it not been for her tears, he could swear she was unaffected by the whole trauma. He stands up, shoulders slightly hunched and leans over the girl, pausing to look into her empty eyes. How is it that empty eyes are the only thing to charm him? The girl dodges under his lurking body and slides from the bed. It's morning. Michigan morning. He smiles gently at her and slips out the door. Walking down the apartment stairs, he remembers why he loves the morning. The air is always crisp, people are too drowsy to be obnoxious and, it's generally beautiful. He sees the newspaper, staring him down, from it's lowly place on the ground. Mumbles something about belonging there. Walking on the sidewalk, it's like walking through his mind. Last week the girl said something that really bothered him. Yesterday, a group of people were talking so loud he couldn't concentrate on what he was doing. The way the tops of the trees touch the sky is really magnificent. Yea. He sits down on the curb, to contemplate the cold December day. The cold December day warmly embraces the boy...and he recalls feeling whole. A feeling that often made him feel empty. Caring about other people wasn't exactly his forte. Letting people down didn't get him off. Her empty eyes were a clean slate. Forever clean. They held nothing. Anything he did was like a little balloon, everything he said was a little balloon. Empty eyes.