A Word About Warmth

It was the first of the month, so, naturally, I was taking my rent to the drop box in the basement of my apartment building. Down three flights of stairs, past the mailboxes, around the corner and through a doorway, down another set of stairs—I came out by the laundry machines and stopped. I felt like I’d just been wrapped up in a loving embrace. And—no joke—I laughed out loud with glee. I seriously considered staying there for the rest of the day just soaking up that soft, loving warmth like a baby in her mother’s arms. But the image was fleeting; after dropping my envelope in the box for “RENT”, I threw on my winter coat and went out into the cold, April afternoon.