Posted on by Elliott David

The sky last night was the color of exhaust. A mouth-shaped cloud with lipstick a dead shade of mauve spoke to me and said, “You can’t hide from this, you know,” and I was all like, I do and I don’t. Some girl on the corner told her boyfriend, You smoke so cool. I brushed past them, wafting their fumes, and tried to recall the sensation of walking off airplanes.