The sun began to sink beyond the horizon bringing out the twilight. The street-lights began their merry humming, kicking in to light the way for passersby, to hold back the night in patches so that the illusion of safety is there.
Max and Frank waited by the park. Frank huddled in his long coat, holding a cup of coffee in his hands, while Max leaned up against a lamppost, smoking a cigarette. Looking like rejects from the Exiles On Main Streets painting.
"Damn cold out this evening," Frank said. "I hate winter."
"And she probably hates you as well," Max interjected. He flicked the butt from his hands and it arced across the sky like a comet, landing on the damp pavement and extinguishing its life in the process.
No comments:
Post a Comment