She placed her lips around the tab of her cigarette, the nicotine dived into her wet mouth, slid down her throat and circulated her lungs before forcing itself back up like a sea-witch exiting the ocean. The smoke clawed its way over the remains of her red lipstick and dispersed into the immediate air.
The sun penetrated the room through the crack in the curtains and Harp got up to close the gap.
“Fucking day-light, it’s my all time enemy” laughed Dahlia as Harp pretended to be melting from the sunlight. They didn’t want to know that day had begun; the pressure of fatigue and poor health lay on them like the devils duvet.
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