I dragged casually on my cigarette, the late night summer air optimal for the tobacco’s flavor. Winter smokes are the worst; the cig taking on an acrid quality echoed by the bitter cold. Daytime summer smokes can be a drag too; the humidity adding an unpleasant heaviness to the experience. But nighttime smoking in the hot months was just perfect.
A young couple had moved in to the house next to my wife and me a few weeks back. They were in their 20s, dorky in a cool way. The guy I’d met once, us both heading out to our cars one afternoon. Friendly, dumpy kid named Evan. I’d often see him at night in his office playing some computer game across three connected monitors, so you knew he took it pretty seriously. His girlfriend I’d seen but hadn’t really interacted with yet.
She was adorable. Short and petite, with an irresistibly timeless dark brown pixie bob. Cute, dark-rimmed glasses. Perky little tits. Just the epitome of the art school girl I’d always had a soft spot for. We’d exchanged cordial smiles here and there, but never spoke or met face to face.