Ellie broke the news in a park just before dark.
With arms outstretched,
Mark escaped through the curtain
of gloom as enchanting lacy flakes
tipped the scale and blended
with ice on the pavement.
Mark swung his arms and danced,
going nowhere fast.
He sucked in and blew out his breath
quicker than he could find the strength
to double over and say game over.
Mark blamed Ellie before he cast stones at himself.
He ran so far away, yet she’s still so close.
Ellie called his name as he ran
from his future responsibility.
His name echoed the way words
do in a snowstorm.
Mark returned to the park bench.
Ellie sat with her hood over her long, dark hair.
Mark saw her shake and heard her sob.
Ellie remained, arms close to her chest.
Mark sat beside her
and wrapped his arm around her.
At first, Ellie tried to push his arm away,
only making his grip firmer,
and she eased into his embrace.
“What are we going to call her?” Mark said.
Ellie giggled. “What makes you think it’s going to be a girl?”
“Anything that makes me crawl back to you screams, girl.”
We laughed—still together.
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