The Seven Minute Cigarette

She leans up against the cold brick wall next to the door of the local coffee shop on 4th Avenue. He stands next to her, his hands clenched up tightly inside the pockets of his winter coat. She turns her head in his direction. She watches him as he lights a cigarette from his crumpled up pack of Camels. He senses that she is studying his every move, yet he pays no mind. His habitual movements amuse her. He turns to look at her. She smiles as she looks directly into his eyes. He attempts to smile at her as his mouth forms a half-hearted smirk, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He turns his head towards the street and contemplates a cab ride home. She flirtatiously grabs the cigarette from his mouth and begins to smoke it as if he does not exist in that moment. He is startled, but he leans up against the cold brick wall peering over her without a word. She looks toward the street thinking of a conversation she had with her friend earlier that day in the coffee shop. She is concerned about her friend and thinks of how she may be able to help. She then thinks of the man next to her. She thinks about what it would be like to kiss him. She imagines his hard body pressed up against her; the scent of his skin, the feel of his hair, his juicy wet lips… She snaps out of it and checks her watch for time. She is late for work. She puts the cigarette back in his mouth and says, “Do you know that it takes seven minutes for a cigarette to burn down to the filter? I would assume it burns much faster when you are sucking on it.” He chuckles and says, “Hmm, I didn’t know that.” She smiles at him, nods her head and walks away…