The scenery is painted in black, the skyscrapers beam in delight as the cars from below whine.
There, a man leans forward on his balcony, propped elbows with a cigarette in between his fingers.
He takes a sip to feel each hit, smoky lungs breathing out puffs of grey clouds.
Beside him another man accompanies his humble balcony, not sipping any smoke nor liqour, but a cup of fancy tea in his hand.
He takes notice of the smoke, the piercings and the tattooed arms.
The cigarette man does the same and casts his pink mug with a slight twist of the lips.
"Never seen you before," he says.
"I just moved in," the other answers shyly.
For a moment they stop, arms putting out smoke and fingers putting down hot chocolate.
"What's your name?"
They start from there -their busy hands no longer gripping anything but their balcony's railings, both bodies facing the other.
"Tell me yours first."
YOU ARE READING
Mrs. Allegory
Random"I love you, but only when she's away." A sentence. A phrase. Or even a word. "It's more than just a story, it's Life itself." A collection of Mrs. Allegory's stories that captures time and reality.
