cigarettes // yuri on ice

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When he turned, the dim street lamp behind him shone through slightly, outlining his frosty light grey hair.

'There it is again..' he thought, observing it. He thought the man's hair color was so bizarre, and since that was the only thing he could actually see of him except only his black outline in the night.

Yuri secretly wished he would ride the bus in the day time instead.

He wondered what the face behind the Russian smoker looked like.

"It is." Yuri replied. "I see you're not wearing a suit this time," he joked.

The man nodded. "Nope. What brings you to riding at night?"

You.

"What do you mean?"

"I've rode this bus at this same time for years going home from work, and I've never seen you here before once. Now you've come twice in a row. Why?"