you look older she said softly, sadly. i can tell by your hands he ran them self conciously through his brown hair and hid them in his pockets. 'you're the same' he said emptily, both of them knowing it wasn't true. 'you stopped writing.' it wasn't an accusation, or a question, just a fact. embaressed she told him of how busy she had been, the long photoshoots, the agents, meetings, contracts. every minute was filled, even the A list parties was business, building reputation and worming through grapevines.he knodded the entire time, his eyes busily switching between the trash, cigarette butts, and gum scattered around their feet. she asked him what he was doing in the city. 'i earned a four day weekend, shift managers get them once every three months... you know at the warehouse, so i came up here... for the view i guess.' she laughed, her voice filled with confidence now that they were in shallow water, on safe ground, the small talk. 'the view? stout office buildings and slums? there isn't a whole lot to do here unless you're in, you know' he squinted at her a little bit, his head cocked as he lit a cigarette. he saw her glance at his yellowed teeth, and the wrinkles building around his eyes. still smoking? for a moment the familiar voice had come through, warm with concern and familiarity. he looked away and blew a thin stream towards the sun, or where the sun would of have been if it weren't for the blanket of grey that lay over the city. 'still doing alot of things.' he said heavily. 'nothings changed, except i lost you.' she looked up in surprise at this ambush, sympathy and guilt watering her eyes. before she could reply a baldheaded, elegantly dressed man in stylish glasses and thin leather shoes stopped and touched her arm with a smile of growing recognition. 'my godddd! _______, is that you? what a coincidence i was just talking with charlotte about thhhhhhheeeeerayvaagtthaez nac' his voice lost itself in babble broken by laughs as thin and well groomed as himself. she turned with an instant smile, the smile that froze for hours for photographs, dazzled magazine pages and was always, always carried in her back pocket. watching the spectacle he threw his cigarette butt into the gutter with its friends, and seeing a taxi parked close behind them, silently slid in. ' get me the fuck out of here.' he told the eyes and nose boorishly observing him in the rearview mirror. 'i want over the bridge. don't stop driving until you see a tree for christsake. get me the fuck out. ' | 
