Imogene
They sat across from each other. Gossip rising like the steam from their coffee.
stood in the dark,
in the night.
waiting.
waiting for it all to be over.
waiting for next week.
but next week never comes.
it's always this week.
this same shitty week.
over and over.
He leaned, he leaned so well. His chocolate brown hair tickling the tip of his nose. That's rediculous.