Martha Waits

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It’s not the snow that I can’t stand, it’s that damn wind; it blows through everything. I try to pull my coat a little tighter, but it feels paper thin against the relentless wind. My feet are soaked standing here waiting for the B53 bus. The snow has already melted through my shoes from the top and around the sole simultaneously, my toes are freezing. The bus finally arrives, and the first person to step off is my ex-husband John. We stand for a moment face-to-face… then he nods politely and continues on his way. A wave of longing cuts through me and makes me forget about the wind and my wet feet.

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