Warming up a house

There are two REI camp chairs on the balcony. The sun is beginning to set.
We’ve eaten two chips. The oven is on and empty.
The front door is open.
Our coloring station is a pad of white paper, twelve rainbow markers, medium tip, and two party hats we’ve attempted on the entry table.

We talk for two hours, half wondering where everyone is, half musing over each other’s farm animal childhoods.
The air cools. We turn off the oven.
He says, let’s have some salsa. And I think Salsa! Let’s dance!
He puts on swing music in the corner of the kitchen.
The living room is full of brisk dusk air and cooling oven heat.
He tries to teach me the Charleston. We end up looped around each other spinning and swaying wildly.
He claps his hands in delight and steps away from me. Do the dirty dancing leap, he says.

I don’t think twice before I take my run. He always catches me.
We fall into a chair, laughing so hard time runs off the page.

We smile at each other. The heart of a fire.

You’re all the warming up it needed, he says.

with so much joy and confetti my heart is bursting,

Alexa