writeorwrong
she coughed loudly as she passed them, smoking their cigarettes and trying to look cool. she hated their air or arrogance, how they walked around as though didn't have a care in the world for anything or anyone, and yet she had to admit: being one of them would be so much easier than being the outsider.
she crossed and recrossed her long legs and took a drag of her cigarette. the smoke is awful, that's for sure, but there is something intriguing, mysterious, and beautiful about the way it dances and swirls above her head.