Drabble 67 – Refocillate

Drabble 67 – Refocillate

Refocillate

I have had enough of summer. Between a heat rash and the fact that most of my clothes are seasonally inappropriate, I’m ready for the crispness of fall, the smell of apples, the scary movie marathons. A lot of people live for warm summer weather but I’d rather be shivering in ten coats than panting in front of a fan.

I’m a chunky sweaters and hot cider kind of girl. I don’t care for iced tea or bikinis, and I hate getting sand in my books. I’ll let everyone else have summer; give me months of frost and gray skies and a slow transition to spring, then start it all over again.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

REFOCILLATE

(Verb) From Latin fovēre, to keep warm

To refresh or revive.

Lydia held the tiny thing in her trembling hands. “Come on,” she whispered, leaning in close, rubbing its belly with her thumbs like she’d seen in movies. Her breath hung in the air, just shy of freezing.

It was damp and cold in her hands, its little heart beating so quickly it felt more like a vibration. Lydia hadn’t gotten a good look at it; she thought it might be a bat, but, sodden as it was, it was hard to tell.

It sank its teeth into her finger and she yelped. Alive, then. She sucks her finger and smiles.

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