I smoke his cigars under the table, not doing smoke rings, his turntables loud and happy with him and Olivia above me.
The door is locked under the mere principle of the household being a locked door is a locked door and apparently a woman in sunglasses with the man’s cigars as well.
I collect every cigar left over there is the ashtray after the finnish and I stand up, Jack taking off my round sunglasses for a bit, chewing some piece of food and then we both sit.
