Having a cig with you
Having a cig with you He says a friendly hello to the people ahead of me as they're leaving, holding the door for each of us as the last one of his group to go inside. That was Luke. Friendly, familiar, chivalrous. But never overly so. It was the sort of bare minimum amiability that, had it come from someone less attractive, would have gone unnoticed. Since I was the last one of our group to leave, he’s still holding the door as I pass through. He nods at me as I thank him and move slightly to transfer the faint weight of the door from his fingertips to mine, so that he can pass through and continue the rest of his night. Hey , he stops me. Our fingertips graze each others’ as his hand remains where it is, each of us now bearing some of the door’s weight. Fancy hanging back with me a sec while I have a cig? His face is unbothered, like he doesn’t mind what my answer is either way. Like he’s asked only because it was the polite thing to do, despite us never having...