There was a long wait by the park benches past midnight. A humid stench melted off the waste and plant life that accumulated like a thin layer of placenta across the belly of the lake. A man sat on the bench and smelled in the stink of the night. He pulled his coat closer to him; he tugged at the collar to stand up on his neck. His eyes shifted to the extreme corners of each eye in opposite directions. There was no one anywhere, yet just beyond the mist in the distance he could feel the pulse of the city throbbing and vibrating into the late hour.
He casually stood up to send away the chaotic stillness on this side of the air. He held the ground down with his body and concentrated on the rhythm of his breathing. He needed to be in direct contact with his self. He used his left hand to reach into his right coat pocket to grab a pack of smokes. His right hand fished into the left, here he wrapped his fingers around both targets and brought them together at his mouth.
Finally the winds shifted carrying a woman’s perfume to his head and into his blood, down his veins, tickling his genitals with a warm heat. He sat back down onto the bench and filtered the smoke through his lungs, then exhaled the rest back into the chill of the night. It was an uncommonly soft night he had decided, soft and ripe for the picking. Like her, and there she came through the mist. Her hair was pulled back tight against her head and she wore a long trench coat like the feminine form of his. Sparkling koi fish earrings dangled at her chin. She walked and stood before him.
So she was here. This was what he had come to find out.
Not late for class today.
Takes pride in her work, flirts shamelessly with the present.
He sighed, well no matter what else came between them at least there was this and it was a start, she was here.