The Day After The End Of The World

A chance meeting occurred at a Christmas party where the food was artfully placed around the kitchen table and the tree stood proudly in the corner, lit up in a twinkling grin. She stood amongst a small crowd of our closest friends, chatting idly about the first man on the moon, how out of this world she thought that was.

(I watched her go outside, onto the deck, to smoke a cigar. her lips forming an "o" to banish the cloud from her lungs).

And there she was before me, a unique specimen of the likes I'd never seen. So collected, or so it seemed (I was never too sure about the surface of hearts, anyways). I sat next to her, our arms brushed against each other, and a curious sensation swept through me and I swear I saw it flash through her eyes as well when I turned to face her.

She gave me her name. I gave her mine. And we shared nothing more than a small smile.