Etat Libre D’Orange, Jasmin e Cigarette
He stared into his coffee and inhaled deeply. He could still smell jasmine on his cuffs. When the steam clouded his sight he shut his eyes and let the night return to him in flashes. She sat down at the far end of the bar where she had left her drink capped in a cocktail napkin every time she went outside to smoke. He had watched her long fingers encircle the stem of her wine glass and draw it to her lips. She sipped hard and swallowed slowly. Alone, never lonely. All the same he had dared to approach her. They shared two (or was it three?) more bottles of wine before dashing out into the night. The backs of her bare shoulders against brick. Black lace low around her thighs. Her lit cigarette falls to the ground still smoking.