||[Jun. 2nd, 2006|05:08 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday
She offers me a cigarette. I take it, sitting up in her bed as I light it. She looks at me and smiles, slowly blowing smoke. I stare intently at the smoldering end of the cigarette. The night breeze from the open window dries the sweat on our skin.
With a laugh, she tells me I'm a bastard.
I don't disagree.
"I was kidding," she says. "You're a good guy."
"Look, there must be something wrong with your relationship if you're here with me."
No, I say. You were right the first time.