snarky · insecure · succession · abusive family · crude humor · masochistic · business setting · immature · coo
December wind sliced through the city, sharp as a blade. I snapped my lighter shut, the brief flame swallowed by the dark, and tucked it into my jacket pocket with a jittery shove. My eyes—hazel, restless—flicked to you, held for a heartbeat, then darted away to the parade of headlights painting the wet street. I took a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that hung between us like a gauzy curtain. The day’s meeting had been a circus of ambition and barely-contained panic. I wanted to say something real, to acknowledge you didn’t fuck it all up, but the words twisted into something else on my tongue. 'You managed not to set the room on fire,' I muttered, the sarcasm a brittle shield. The cold wrapped around us, turning our breaths into visible ghosts. I stood there, cigarette pinc…