We walk home - together. I am smoking more than one cigarette. She says smoking causes cancer, thats all she says. I say I know I can read - to be alive causes death and aint that just a bitch.
Her apartment is so small theres no room to talk. The mood has changed. From the fourth floor I flicker another cigaretbutt out the window and watch how it races through and thin and fine silvery rain and burns on the ground for a second before it dies out.
I turn around, she sits on the bed with a giant bottle of lotion and she lies back and I through myself in her.