It’s like we are in the 1920s, a vintage noir fabricated by deep shadows and some lights so bright, you can’t help but smile. Do they dance, side-stepping, twirling madly, madly, insanely happy? No, it’s a courtship. Eyes imitating thick, rich caramel fogged by the dense, salient smoke. Mist floods from each drag, the hot
Day: December 10, 2015
The first time he told you it wasn’t a parking ticket, he chose his words carefully, stressing the syllables turning a story around, as you both were lying in his bed. That’s it. Instigator, you had to ask: So you didn’t hit her? Handing you a whiskey with a splash of coke, he told you