global warming

I think we spent too much time in the wrong climate. The cold didn't suit him. His skin favoured the sun, and the damp just made him damper. His spirits seemed to sag under the heavy weather. My moods got crisper in the cold, his drooped, dishevelled in the rain. Perhaps if we'd spent more time in the sun, the balance would have shifted. He would have bronzed and burnished, his hair bleached and teeth sparkled, while I shrivelled, shiny and red under the glare. But we were damp rainy poor back then, and could never afford to pay for sunshine. I think of soggy shoelaces and heater stooping, and I see now that he wasn't smiling, as my cold, cold hand slipped into his.