Lover

"I've got me a lover" written through the essence of a candle lit room with wooden floors. She holds an embering cigarette in one hand and a blue bic pen in the other. Pause. Loud thoughts. Drags cigarette. Returns "duct" to chipped crystal dish substituting for a proper ash tray. Long, steady hands, the hue of an old penny, reach for a nip of a cheap malt liquor staining a reused paper cup. Drank. Dry cough. Somber jazz echoes a lazy dirge. The response? Whispers of manic thoughts.