omfgpants

   A misty silhouetted man stood in the shadow of the door frame, flowing trails of smoke from his mouth and nostrils in an elaborate fashion. He flicked his cigarette and twiddled it into the ground, spreading ash and flawed tobacco into creased concrete. He glimpsed at the dame, arms draped over the balcony.  She shivers in the wind like the last leaf on a dying tree as the mid-winter weather shows no sign of stop. She tucks her hands together in folds to close in from the cold and darting raindrops. He raised his hand from his jacket pocket, wiped his brow of trickling sweat with his palm, and then looked dourly at the moisture that cove