That was the best coffee I’ve ever had, because it was the night I met you.
We talked for hours, but it didn’t feel that way. You had shed your yellow coat to reveal your navy knit sweater, and your long brown hair was twisted around your shoulders like a scarf, framing your small heart-shaped face.
You were always smiling at me, something that most people would not do when they saw me on the street.
I told you I was perusing business. You told me you were an aspiring journalist, and that you were attending Lewis and Clark College majoring in said interest, with a minor in drawing.
“Why drawing?”
You looked down at the steaming cup in your hands with a smile, before looking back up with a shrug. “Why not?”
“Are you any good?”
“God, I hope so. That would be a waste of time if I wasn’t.”
My mouth twitched at the urge to smile. “You’ll have to show me some of your stuff then sometime.”
“Yeah,” you paused, a slow but gradual smile spreading onto your face, as your piecing blue eyes searched mine. “I would like that.”
I took a sip of my coffee.
YOU ARE READING
Nicotine
Short StoryAbout a boy who smokes, And a girl who doesn't want him to, But mostly about how she seems to save him. © by Sydney Druckman 2022. Early matters subject to change.
