Poppy was late. The snow beat down on the dark street outside the window, creating a cozy atmosphere within the apartment, but Poppy was supposed to be home half an hour ago and there was still no sign of her.
Francis stood in the kitchen over a cup of tea. He checked his watch impatiently, but sighed, debating on calling.
About ten minutes later, the door open and Poppy entered, her cheeks rosy from the cold. Her hair was disheveled and her grey coat collar was raised, contrasting with her rust scarf. “Hey, baby,” she said quietly, closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry I’m late.
He glanced back, a warm grin spreading across his face as he went to greet her. "No worries. I made you tea."
She smiled, kissing his cheek with cold lips as he approached. She moved to take off her coat and gloves but hesitated before keeping them on, stepping forward to hug him instead. "You're so sweet. Thank you."
She beamed and brushed his cheek with a gloved hand. "Very. I always liked New Years. What about you?"
