that had formed while I was staring at the squat building before me.
With no warning, I was pulled 180 degrees around and crushed into an embrace.
There was a lot of wool (hat, scarf, gloves) and scratchy bristles, and a smell of apples, soap and Marlboro Reds.
“Eleanor!” Raymond said. “So that’s what you meant when you said you’d see me soon.”
I let myself be held, moved closer into the embrace, in fact, because, I was forced to admit,
at that particular time and in those particular circumstances, and feeling the way I did,
the sensation of being held by him was nothing short of miraculous.
I said nothing, and, very slowly, my arms crept up, tentative as winter sunlight,
so that they were placed around his waist, the better to bury myself into the embrace.
My face rested against his chest. He said nothing either, intuiting, perhaps, that what I needed most at that moment
was that which he was already providing and precisely nothing more.
We stood this way for some moments, and then I stepped back and rearranged my hair, wiped my eyes.
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