She left an earring at my home. I kept it in my left pocket, close to my heart, thinking I'd return it the next time we meet. But the next time we met, she hugged me. Her arms wrapped around me,warm as the coffee between my hands on a winter morning. And for a moment, I forgot there was a world beyond her. I forgot the little piece of her I was supposed to give back. And between all this while, the earring found its way to my heart. And every time she came closer, it pierced a little deeper,a little more blood, but I never felt the wound. Perhaps her presence was so beautiful that I mistook the pain for something magical. And so I let it stay. Until one day the bleeding stopped. I never did return the earring.But somewhere between the first wound and the last drop of blood, my heart had mistaken a piece of her for a piece of itself. When I feel cold

