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Excerpt from Chapter 2-Who could’ve guessed the 1990’s would be such a disappointment, who would’ve thought that if we had looped 1978-1989 with an eight second cross fade it would have been like one glorious endless song- a perfect song.
Taking a drag on her cigarette, she stared across the table at the stained walls. Letting her imagination go, she imagined the dark red spots were blood, and someone sitting just where she was had their brains blown out from the back of their head, maybe by an enraged ex lover or a drug dealer out for revenge. Smiling at her own foolishness, she let the smoke sift through her lips, savoring the taste of tobacco, and wondering when her phone might ring, if at all.In that split second between smile and exhale, he noticed her. He noticed the curves of her lips when she smiled, and the way her lips pouted around the cigarette, and the pink stains on the white tip of the filter. He noticed how her green eyes wandered the wall across from her, and how her black fingernails were bitten down to the quick. Thinking to take opportunity when opportunity arose, he tried to nonchalantly walk over to her, tried to saunter like they did in the old westerns, hoping she wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating. Hoping that his grey eyes wouldn’t betray his hope. And how much he wanted this, her. Finishing her cigarette, she smashed it into the ashtray with a pent up anger she didn’t feel like addressing. Reaching for her purse, she shuffled around to find her pack of Marlboro Lights, only to find when opening it, that it was empty. Sighing in frustration, she smashed the pack and threw it into the ashtray with her still smoldering butt. Then, feeling a tap on her shoulder, she looked over to see one white cigarette being offered to her in a tan hand. When he saw she was out of smokes, he thought his luck might be turning up, and sauntering closer, he pulled out his own pack and one slender stick, to offer to her. Knowing that a kindness done is a kindness received, he hoped to find a good grace for a first impression. She smiled at the tan hand and took the cigarette, grateful that someone in the world was still friendly. Letting her eyes move away from the tan hand, her sight traveled up a body that she knew only too well. A body that she had been trying hard to forget. The smile leaving her mouth, and her eyes closing slightly, she let a snarl form on her mouth. He motioned to sit down, and then looked at her askance, as if to ask, “May I?” And she nodded, almost imperceptibly, knowing that she couldn’t run this time. And he slid into the booth, covering the red stains on the wall, as if shutting out all fantasy worlds and slamming reality into her face. cut him off there. Holding her hand up to stop him, she lit up the cigarette and took a drag. Looking at him, she exhaled slowly, letting her eyes drift over him, lovingly, at the face she knew so well. And his heart leapt into his throat when he saw her smile, hoping beyond hope, that she would say the words he wanted to hear. He hoped that those green eyes would finally concede, and he could be whole again. But the harsh words that came out of her mouth sent that heart in his throat plummeting down into his stomach, shredding his hopes. “You know your prick isn’t bigger than this fag I’m smoking,” she motioned at him with the hand holding that cigarette, “and you never were one for words. So why would I take you back?” Letting the false smile slide off her face, she smashed the cigarette into the ashtray and slid out of the booth. Slowly, and still looking at him, she shook her head, and left. He sat at the booth, looking at the empty table with its filled ashtray, and got angry. Slamming his fist onto the seat next to him, he stood up and stomped out of the place. Rushing from the booth with him in it, she ran out the door and around the corner, and slamming her back into the brick wall, she sobbed. Tears going down her cheeks, she choked on words she knew she wanted to say, and things she never could. He was too good for her, and she could never make him whole, when she was so incomplete. Without her, he could accomplish something. Without him, she could die in peace. Storming out of the place, he turned the corner, and stopped mid-step. His eyes widened at what he saw. There she was, his dream, his strong girl, crying. He saw the streaks of black running down her cheeks, the remnants of what had been her mascara. He couldn’t help but smile, hope filling his heart once more. Then she looked up. Green eyes met grey, and time stood still.