You are my weakness

I’ve been writing a lot of romance lately. Spring fever perhaps.

I sat on the floor wrapped in a blanket, writing in my journal. You stirred in bed, arms seeking me only to come up empty.

“What are you doing down there, cute girl?”

“Writing, keeping warm.”

Your arms stretched to me. “Come here then, baby. I’ll keep you warm.”

Like a siren’s call, I am helple…