F

A smile came over my face and I saw them walking out the exit and towards me. We embraced each other in familiar hugs and each lit a cigarette. The smoking was the only sane reason to be standing outside in weather like this.

We caught up quickly, in short summaries of our lives since we'd last seen each other- it'd been too long- and then we headed back into the warmth. Now we're ordering drinks and shots because they were advertised as cheap but really it's a waste of money.

I've got a dry throat. Every time I swallow I feel like the inside of my neck is sticking together for a second, and then coming unstuck and suddenly the air is rushing back through. Maybe it's the wine, or the cigarettes or maybe it's just me and I'm exaggerating it all. Either way it's uncomfortable and I'm finding it hard to think of anything else.

We talk a lot about work, and I try and convince them that I'm going somewhere, that I've got a plan. I don't, but there's time. The evening passes too quick and too tipsily and instead of getting on my bus I find myself walking in the darkness. I want that familiarity to last and so I walk myself to it and find myself in your arms, in your smile, and in your heart, and fall asleep all hand in familiar hand.