In the hours when the sky had time to become pretty colorful she smiled dully at the drunk jokes and antics of us. Finishing off yet another peg, she pats the place next to her, her shirt and pant pockets, frowning when she doesn't find what she was searching for.The frowning intensifies into a scowl which lead to muttering, faintly at first, with herself and distinctly later to everyone there. She now kneels down and looks around, almost in a haste like an addict to be precise. Finally she relaxes, clutching that vintage lighter she bought a few months earlier, finding it in the place she sat a moment ago. Steadying herself, clutching the guys' shoulders, she stands up and walks through the clutter out of the door to the terrace.

The winter wind pushed off those kiss curls that...