Not A Name: Routine
Don't own. Don't sue.
Every morning started with a cigarette. He would wake up first, dreading the late night and roll over to his lighter. He would get through half of one before the smoke would wake her up. He’d look down at her messy hair and tired eyes and light her up, like a gentleman. They’d lay there for a while, smoking and being still, neither of them wanting to go downstairs and make the coffee.
“It’s your turn,” she’d giggle and nudge his chest as she reached across for another cigarette.
“I did it yesterday,” he’d argue with a snide smile. She’d narrow her eyes and know that he hadn’t in at least a week but didn’t feel like arguing this early. She’d silently sigh and find a dirty shirt from the floor and carefully make her way to the kitchen.
Coffee was their life in the mornings. They couldn’t start their day without a few fags and few hundred cups between them. Pot after pot they would drink and wander around the house trying to wake their attention, let the caffeine settle in and make them buzz. It didn’t take much for either of them but they would keep drinking.
“One more?” he’d ask as they finish off the third or fourth one. She’d pause.
“One more.”
Every morning started with a cigarette. He would wake up first, dreading the late night and roll over to his lighter. He would get through half of one before the smoke would wake her up. He’d look down at her messy hair and tired eyes and light her up, like a gentleman. They’d lay there for a while, smoking and being still, neither of them wanting to go downstairs and make the coffee.
“It’s your turn,” she’d giggle and nudge his chest as she reached across for another cigarette.
“I did it yesterday,” he’d argue with a snide smile. She’d narrow her eyes and know that he hadn’t in at least a week but didn’t feel like arguing this early. She’d silently sigh and find a dirty shirt from the floor and carefully make her way to the kitchen.
Coffee was their life in the mornings. They couldn’t start their day without a few fags and few hundred cups between them. Pot after pot they would drink and wander around the house trying to wake their attention, let the caffeine settle in and make them buzz. It didn’t take much for either of them but they would keep drinking.
“One more?” he’d ask as they finish off the third or fourth one. She’d pause.
“One more.”