We are sitting in a cafe buried somewhere in hills. The place seems no more a casual stranger, we have too soon carved our own cozy comfortable nook. I swear, there is a high in this damn aura, we are sober. How we giggle around with a bunch of strangers we just met on the table opposite ours. The smell of smoke, of alcohol fills the air. Eyes rolling, lips quivering, heartbeats racing. Drag after drag, sip after sip. The french guy stubs another cigarette butt, igniting the next. He breath it in slowly, making clouds in which I outline shapes. I burry my head in your neck and take a whiff, the euphoria is beyond what crack, or pot could possibly give. The irish guy drinks his whiskey, you drink my body through the goblet of your eyes, spooning me close in arms, tasting me with your lips.
That's when I realise, why are we high teetotalers, sobers yet drunk. We are high on each other. Fucking high on each other.
@flow from a li’l heart