He was taking his marlboros out one by one and placing them into his silver case. Do you live around here, she said. Yes he smiled his hat falling over his eyes I’m real bougie. The glass fish reflected in the bar mirror began to twist slightly maybe from the dark or the heat their insides lit up like beacons, the surface of the glass vibrating slightly a thin membrane of here and not here. She had that warped syrupy feeling when time slows and she notices the fine hair along a knuckle or a back of hand that kind of texture –an eyelash blink that lasts for eternity. So am I, she said.

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