When I saw Anna on the street,
(in the street? Prepositions
always do-see-do for me)
she stood coatless outside her office.
She called it a cigarette break,
though she’d never been a smoker.
Where’s your coat, I asked in passing.
Upstairs, she shrugged, hands clutching
elbows in a mock hug.
Good eye. Her fingers look poised for a cigarette. Very nice!
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