another post with cigarettes and drinks for your pleasure

Time passes like a train barreling down a straightaway in some circumstances, and in others, it passes like molasses down a dispenser. This is the latter.

There was a broken down Camel Filters dispenser waiting on the table when Mark arrived at Mary Ann’s place. She had offered Mark something to drink then retreated to the kitchen. He sat in her living room, looking at the pack of Camel Filters, looking at, what I guess you would call the wings of the top flap, rest against the table. He took his own cigarette out, knowing how socially wrong it was nowadays, but also knowing that Mary Ann would understand, and lighting it.

“There really isn’t any lime in these,” Mary Ann set the drinks on the table. “I mean, I had an old lime, and I squeezed the fuck out of it, but that’s all that’s in there. Some old lime and that’s it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Mark said.

They clinked glasses and took a sip a piece. Mark’s cigarette was close to his fingers. He put it out.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m in a short story, about to be over at any second.”

“No structure?” She sipped her drink hungrily.

“None at all.” He took her hand from the coffee table and held it in his. He kissed every finger on her hand, waiting for her to say something.

“You’ll always be alive Mark, I know it.” She blew a kiss in his direction.

He caught it.