A distinct dampness clings to the air
A lingering chill confirms the admittance of autumn
A house creaks, the squeal of floorboards
As she approaches the windowsill.
It was never about a spiteful affair
She may have given consent
But he enticed her
With a warmth she hungered for.
Exchanging glances through a silver sheen
In sane appraisal of their situation
She raises her palm to the glass
And he mirrors the gesture
A frigid cold leaves cold impressions in her skin
A ghost of warmth emanates through the barrier
Yet the ghost, she finds, is not enough.
A magnetic frost coats the window
Unusual behaviour for the morning
Something lost and something gained
But for whom?
An expectant little smile from the man in the window
Thinly veiling the proud satisfaction of his feat
As though for him no guilt exists
How could a moment of passion
Have quieted within her not only conscience
But reason and discretion too?
A separate figure appears behind her
She notes the arrogance of his features
Sharp characteristics like no other
But then his face transforms
A flicker of unaccusing grief
Before abandoning his burden.
The offender in the window briefly roots her in place
He regards her in a curious manner
As one would if harbouring an inkling of doubt
Sharing her guilt
So she thought.