(pseudo - daniel caesar)
It was december, but how she wish it wasn't. Traffic noises, frantic footsteps, jingling coins. Wrists with expensive watches and hands with fresh painted nails clutching onto the plastic backs, while rushing through the busy streets on a december afternoon.
It was supposed to be cold and snowflakes should be laying around, but there weren't any. People were supposed to be merry this time of year, but they were the same as always.
People were self centered, at least that's how she saw them. They earned the money they needed, and then everything was fine.
She was pretending most of the time. Pretending to be someone she wasn't. Pretending that she wasn't just sitting here, because she had no other place to stay.
They were a permanent reminder on the things she didn't have.
There was a lot of them, who didn't get why she was spending all of her precious time on that bench. With that shabby old jacket and worn out sneakers, she would look like a teenager who just didn't care what other people thought of her. But there was nothing to care about. They were just wondering why she didn't live her life, but the problem was, she didn't want to live the life she was in, rather just escape it.
Someone sat down beside her, and she turned her face. The first thing she noticed was the amount of cigarette packs. Also a craving. He was stuffing them down his pockets, while having one cigarette between his middle and index finger. The veins in his hand was bulging.
"Do you mind?" He cocked an eyebrow, even though he already sat down beside her. But honestly she just wanted to sit alone - like usually.
His imperfections were clear to every human. The little scar he had on the upper cheek. His bloodshot eyes, his nose that was crooked the smallest bit, and looked like he never had it fixed after it got broken.
"Yeah," but she didn't take her eyes off his. She did mind.
His pupils was a little dilated, making the girl wonder if he had any drugs. She was craving it. The brown in his eyes were all different kind of browns. A dark brown circle, holding the color out of the white, while there was little spots of lighter brown tones. The color right along the pupil, was hazel. They were captivating.
His lips turned into a small simper, but not entirely, since he still had that cigarette in his mouth. "Oh," he raised his eyebrows, but didn't move as she said he should, and as she wanted him to.
Instead he lit up the end, taking a long drag, and his cheeks hollowed. His pink lips parted, as they were released from the thin white thing, along with swirling smoke floating in the thick air.
The memories vibrates in her head, as she look at it. She memorise the taste, as the smell filled up her nostrils. She was starting to forget how it felt on her taste buds. She only remembered the addiction it entailed.
He quickly glanced at her empty face again. "You want one?" He pointed one towards her, and she took it faster than a answer slipping out of her chapped lips.
He annoyed her. Probably everyone, if she said it herself. The way he acted was just vexatious. But then again - she didn't like the majority of the population.
He took his lighter out of his pocket, leaning in on her. The fire illuminated the glow in his face, and made his eyes glisten. He held his one hand up in front the cigarette since it was quite windy, and setting fire to the end with his other hand. Their faces was only inches apart, and she couldn't help but stare at him, also wondering why she couldn't light it up herself.
He sat back, looking at her too. Only for a second though, and then his eyes was fixated on something else. They inhaled, feeling the nicotine release in their lungs.
He sunk down, tilting his head backwards with the cigarette balancing on the tip of his lips.
She looked away, gazing empty at the street. She was supposed to have a home, but she was homeless.
