Warming Trend

by Gia Lo Scalzo

You see, I was like a tire with a slow leak, at first imperceptible and finally flat. But what you really need to know is that he was like oxygen smiling into my veins and I swear I could feel its breathy effects in my fingernails, my shoulders, and my stomach’s pit. I will never understand why this is my story and will know only its taste and its mystery. On Sunday afternoon we argued and I stumbled upon (honest) the text messages and read the chirpy responses of the woman he left behind in coldness and anger and it was then that I knew it was there again (the leak, I mean). Outside my kitchen window I can see the dripping icicles and the silvery reflection of the afternoon sun on the icy spears. Everywhere on the East Coast there are rivers and streams and overflowing lakes; there's a warming trend they say and (quite unexpectedly, you see) I sit here wishing that for once the winter, this winter, would not end.


Gia Lo Scalzo is a teacher who lives in a little house in Connecticut that has a deep and overgrown backyard (affectionately known as the "forest") from which she occasionally hears unidentifiable animal noises. Girls from the Bronx are lost (and scared) in the country.


reynolds said...

Like this a lot.

Joe said...

Well done. Look forward to your next well-written six. Great imagery packed into this one.