Tuesday 12 February 2019

Noble warming.

I begged for mercy and won ruthlessness, there in the dark, in the quiet snowfall that coated the point with an eerie unnatural light. I asked for leniency and won strictness, there in the light, in the quiet snowfall that coated the day, too. A day conducted in an eerie unnatural light that saw a sea-change in the morning tides, a literal shift floating on the waves in which a devil learns to be an angel again, of sorts, and one in which an angel is a little devilish sometimes too.

Don't get up, Neamhchiontach. It's a snow-day. Everything is mostly closed. Universities. High Schools. Stores and restaurants too. Mine's not. My restaurant was open.

Of course.

I have to go.

I put on my new shearling sweater and went in. Lochlan drove me in the Jeep. We didn't talk much, enjoying the snow, the quiet roads, the sleepy-Tuesdayness of life. He held my hand when he wasn't in 4-hi and we made it to my job in record time.

Maybe they'll let you go early? He squints through the windshield at the sky, obscured by snowclouds and huge flakes falling fast and heavily now.

Maybe. I get a hard kiss on the lips and he pulls away from the door.

I pour coffee and serve plates all day, automatically, remiss if I was to say I didn't focus one bit on my job. I was too busy thinking about the ruthlessness, too busy thinking about the strictness, too busy thinking about the Devil in a new place in my life and if he'll stay put there or force himself back into bad habits and while I expect the latter, I hope very fervently for the former.