Never Finished (another)

by cerissadival

I ran a mile and a half before my legs gave in beneath me. I stopped on the side of the road, my head swung back, hands on my hips and chest to the hair. The rush of cold air spilled into my welcoming lungs. I pressed my gloves to my lips and blew out a long heave of warm breath against my palms. The heat radiating off my body would melt the snow around me if I decided to take a seat right next to the mailbox. The latch seemed permanently glued but with a few tugs and a kick, the lid dropped open and I searched for the Sunday newspaper, along with the regular side of bills my mother was kindly putting off to the side for the moment. I flipped through every single envelope. Electricity, Be a Republican, Cable and New York. A letter from New York meant a letter from Jerry, I tossed that one out in the garbage pails on the way inside.

“I’m back.” My voice felt muffled by the bellowing heat that swarmed the walls of the house. “Char?” a urgent but sweet voice called from the stairs to my right. “Yeah.” I responded back, dropping the envelopes on the dining room table and heading for the kitchen. The click clack of heels followed behind me. I fished out the last clean bowl from the cabinet, the little bit of milk left in the fridge, coco puffs and a slim silver spoon from drawers