Focus

'What do you want?' she asked, spoiled cigarette hanging out of her chapped lips.

'You,' he said, softly, easily.

'Well you can't have me,' she said sharply, turning her face to the paint soiled wall.

'I can't?' he asked, the aching finality in her voice causing him to choke.

'You can't,' she whispered, her eyes lost in an oblivion of despair, 'you can't.'


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