downtown (2 of 2)

We’re in love by our third martini. Mine dirty, his with a twist. There is an excitement knowing how fast and temporary this will be. The waitstaff are talking about us. When he leans in closer to hear my voice more clearly, I smell violets and cigarettes on his collar, and lemon vodka on his breath. I subtly swoop toward him and we briefly touch cheeks. His skin is as soft as the summer atmosphere around us and the dim streetlights above. We...
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