A Gentle Warmth in Hand
A soft breath slipped past my lips, warm and wonderfully slow. I blinked, realizing my fingers could actually curl tighter. In my right hand, the paper cup with its cardboard sleeve felt distinctly solid and comforting. I leaned in just a tiny bit, nudging the smooth rim against my mitten, letting out a quiet, happy hum. I was standing still, completely awake, holding on to my favorite cup.