moist.

It's cloudy today.

The air is thick with moisture, the sun no where in sight. It threatens to rain, but it hasn't yet.

The dull, grey light shines through the window and illuminates everything with a tired glow. The window is open and a barely there breeze moves the light yellow curtains. The shadows dance across the walls.

We are sitting across from each other. You are slouched in your chair, arms folded across the table's surface, a cigarette hanging from your mouth. The orange light contrasting the rest of the room. The spirals of smoke make their way out the window, slowly dissipating in the crisp outside air.

I stare at you as you gaze outside, your eyes unfocused, deep in thought. I can't help but think you look good like this. Your face is pale, it has a tender glow to it. Your hair, slightly wavy from the humidity, caresses your cheeks gently. You look content and that makes me happy.

Your hand reaches up to your lips and you pull the cigarette out carefully. Bringing it to the cold, black ashtray next to your arm, you tap it on the side. One. two taps. Ashes drop down, scattering about and glimmering like small fireworks.

You notice me observing you. You lift your eyes to meet mine and smile.

It starts to rain.