Come along, fool.
It wasn't yours to have broken, Basel said to the old man with the fishbowl eyes brimming with fight and utter loss. She flicked her lighter open and shut against her knee and tilted her head back to the tune of his sighs, rolling her eyes at the bright stars in a heaven crowded with clouds. He leaned against the metal stair-rail of the stoop and she sat on the concrete step,
Two skins of the same lover,
taking a moment to showcase two awesomely different attitudes to describe Frustration.
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