Chapter 70 Whiskey, Winter, And Worst Case Scenario Two

• He leaned leisurely against the far end of the wooden fence, half-shadowed by the yellow garden lights. A cigarette burned lazily between his fingers, the ember flaring as he took a slow, unhurried drag.
• The smoke curled past his lips, dissipating into the cold air like a ghost slipping through the cracks of reality. It was a haunting sight. Like I'd met the devil during his smoke break.
• His hoodie was pushed back slightly, his dark hair stark against the night. He looked untouched by the cold as if winter had decided he was too untouchable, too distant to claim.