With windows open, letting in the warm Spring air.
A mug of hot water, honey, and whiskey.
Wrapped in a blanket as I pour out my heart on paper.
Listening to the live music from the wine bar across the street.
Trying to get through the pain of writing yet another memory I wish I didn't remember.
Eating pieces of pineapple the bakery cut for me.
Hearing the owner of the Italian restaurant yell "Night, Hallie!" as he walks to his car after the restaurant closed.
Knowing there will be even more nights like this.
This is just the beginning.