Open to interpretation.

I'm burning with the kind of sweaty freezing warmth that comes from running in the snow. Behind me, they're talking about hentai and video games. Ahead, there's someone I once knew leaning against a corner of a building, rolling a cigarette with something overly fragrant in a bag. Cloves or dope or something.

I ask for one, too. He hands it over silently. My fingers are blue. Too fucking bad, I don't care.

Chubby metalhead, he was.

The lights are so blinding when they mask the night. The sky's still blue...not day-blue, indigo. If I look up...there are only a few stars, really, but my imagination fills in the masses.