It's a warm, still night. My shirtsleeves are rolled up, tie undone, no jacket to cover the suspenders holding up my pants, and I'm badly in need of a shave. Sakurada-san isn't a stickler for the dress code this late at night. He's probably at home, anyway. He deserves it after the week he's had.
I sit on the edge of the wall, one leg drawn up, the other dangling, and I lean back against the housing for the air recirculator. My match flares briefly in the darkness, and I take the first drag on my cigarette.
It's about now that he usually turns up. I don't know how he knows. I hope he doesn't. I hope he's at home, or snoring in the small bare room here that's his (next to mine).
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-10-17 11:46 pm (UTC)I sit on the edge of the wall, one leg drawn up, the other dangling, and I lean back against the housing for the air recirculator. My match flares briefly in the darkness, and I take the first drag on my cigarette.
It's about now that he usually turns up. I don't know how he knows. I hope he doesn't. I hope he's at home, or snoring in the small bare room here that's his (next to mine).
...but I wouldn't mind seeing him.