Jeans and Boots

They spotted each other from afar. She under the bus stop sign and he exiting the taxi. Her face was motionless, the cold city wind brushing against her eyelashes. His lower back creaking and grinding. A comet kisses the sky. She lights a cigar without breaking contact with the static stranger dressed in a creased suit. He walks up to her. She steps into the bus. Butter fingers.

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