Nascent romance.

You rise from a prolonged slumber, ambivalent if it was sweet. The curtains are timid, letting in certain stray rays of sunlight that have been burning the fabrics of the same, that sealed you within your cocoon of soothe, solace.
Nothing looks different, not a dust has traveled.. the haven within the four walls has been sincerely parallel to the that of your mind, the radiating warmth is the same, the station on the radio still plays the same song. Time stopped here, but life on the road didn't ;You realize, once you gingerly walk to the french window, and see the quiet nip of winter smiling on the hooded jackets of wool on people, who carried on, who are carrying on.
The white tee shirt on you feels a little tense, your gaze shifts to the mirror, you wonder if you've advanced some on the weight machine, but you look the same, you still look the same.
You still have a broken nail, that odd twisted smile, the quick frown, the waist long hair. Your skin is still recuperating from the goose bumps, the only recent past you were bequeathed to ponder on.

There's an unsure knock on the door, the familiar face peeping makes you smile. You gesture him to come in, to sit with you, to talk to you, to just be there. So home would feel regular, and the spry change of the lazy seasons wouldn't collide your senses anymore.
...and while you listen to what has happened since you were away, how many bride grooms kissed their brides, how many kittens snuck in through the garden, who the dog barked at, and how the world still revolved while yours slowed down, unsure - you translate the normalcy in that face in front of you, who's happy to see you and who's happy to welcome you back, despite your arrogant disappearance.
And you smile, for most things never altered. It's December already, but it still feels like June.

..and you finally let out a laugh, at how the months, years don't wait. But each and every essence of an old emotion can stand still, suspended in air, until you realize, it's December already, and now that emotion is dead.. for it decayed along with the leaves of autumn, and gave in way to snow, and a nascent romance.

You look at the face in front of you, still uttering on each and every detail you missed while in your slumber.. Yes,he was a nascent romance. 

(And with that, ends my break..and starts my winter. Good lord,it's December already.)
-Nil :)