Friday, July 3, 2015

ink and cream

The smile came easily to her lips, impish yet wide. She looked tired but unconcerned. Wild, ink-black hair fell across pale blue eyes whenever she stopped to pantomime at shopping. Her busy fingers, tipped in ragged black nails, were forever fidgeting with the heavy buckle on her secondhand leather jacket.

She had heard of his favorite band. She actually liked them. They talked for several minutes about nothing and everything. She said she was going down to the half-abandoned mall to drink forties and break shit

Then, she walked out the door. He crashed hard from the nervous euphoria of meeting her, and like every time he’d tried blow, all he wanted was more.

She was too beautiful to exist; he was certain of this.

He quit his job and followed her out into the wide, white spaces of a sunny afternoon.

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