Smoke and Kiss By J. W. Kash

While reading and drinking on a patio outside a bar, I saw a couple take a break from smoking and start kissing passionately on the sidewalk. Then a garbage truck pulled up next to them and made a loud, grating, breaking noise. A bald and bulky man jumped off the back of the truck and began heaving black bags of trash from the street into the truck. The couple continued to kiss and smile and sigh. The kissing man embraced the woman tighter around the waist, holding her close, and the garbage man grunted as he threw the last bag of trash into the back of the truck. Then the vehicle drove away, spewing smoky exhaust out of the top from a thin, metal pipe. The couple stopped kissing and went back to their seats next to mine and vehemently began complaining to the waitress that their drinks were bourbon and coke and not rum and coke like they had ordered. They said they could tell the difference.

I finished my drink, closed the book, and left the lovers to remedy their predicament.

© 2016 J. W. Kash

J. W. Kash labors in restaurants during the day and grapples with the pen at night. By “grapple with the pen” he means that he likes to juggle. By “likes to juggle” he means that he practices trickery. By “practices trickery” he means that he doesn’t labor in restaurants and his bio is a joke.

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