We sat stationary and cold as the baseball sized hail splattered the ground around us, ice shards skipping across the ground. The mini-meteorite assault had begun at noon, turning the warm sky a foreboding black.

I was in blue jeans and an old camp shirt with ‘staff’ splayed across the back in fun letters, soaked to the bone and shivering. I had lost a shoe in the run for cover and was missing it sorely, though when it came to choosing between the cover of the bus stop and a shoe the choice had been obvious.

She was wearing her favorite summer dress, and I felt bad for her as she sat huddled in the soaked, mud splattered, barely-there, outfit. I would have cuddled her, embraced her and kept her warm, but the days when that would have been acceptable were long behind us. Just friends now.

She caught me looking at her and turned to stare back at me. Her glare turned to something softer. I suppose she understood what I was thinking about, and the thought was enough to warm her up, even if just emotionally.