[june colbert]

The afternoon shine of the sun was almost blinding as it bound off the windows on each side of the bustling streets of Chicago. The city was looking its best in the wintry December afternoon. Snow hugged the edges of the sidewalks and several of the automobiles parked on the side of the street had patches of snow over their gleaming hoods from sitting too long. Winters were never exactly hard but the winds that came off the great lake were enough to send anyone not wearing a coat into a shiver from the biting chill. June Colbert stood eyeing the Chicago Theater with a trench coat fastened quickly around her body. The coat was a velvety brown with large buttons down the front; it wasn’t the most attractive coat since those typically were edged with seal fur. The particular brown coat June wore was bound tightly at her waist with large cuffs on her sleeves and ended at her mid thighs, just above where the girl’s black skirt ended below her knees. Her legs were bare verse being covered with stockings and a pair of black pumps covered her legs that took the brunt chilly breeze.

Hands in the pockets of her coat and head tilted up to look and read the banner that announced the Broadway piece that was the week’s entertainment. June read the names and rolled her eyes seeing the name of a woman who often played the leads of the plays of the Chicago Theater. June knew she could do better then that wretched chick that hadn’t a speck of talent. She couldn’t come to grasp why they had chosen that awful actress in a city like Chicago. Couldn’t they find anyone better? She had forgotten her line last time June went to the show, and she had made a mental note not to go see any of the shows that had the gal in them.

Pulling her hands out of her pockets, June’s hand was enclosed over a shining cigarette case. Embroidered into the metal case was a vine a floral pattern, and as she flipped it open there laid six cigarettes in the green cushioned case. Pulling one of the butts from it’s place and putting it between her lips, immediately staining it’s white tube shape with her bright red lipstick, June closed the case and pocketed it once again. Moving away from the streets that were crowded from the hour of lunch in the business world, June made her way to a seat on a bench where she could admire the theater and imagine her own name next to the part of the lead.

The year before June had been turned away from the theater because they figured she was far too young and her days should be spent in school learning what was mandatory for a young woman. To June, the things she learned in the school filled with girls wasn’t what she needed to learn. She spent half her day in normal classes that involved writing, history of the country, and mathematics which no one took seriously. The other half of the day was even more of a joke, learning to sew, prepare meals, and get out a tough stain. The school June attended was for girls only for a reason, it wasn’t even a school- it was a preparatory school for young women joining the ranks of housewives. Possibly the worst mistake on her parents part seeing June only showed up to school when she was ‘in the mood’. The last semester her lack of attendance had ended in a meeting with the headmistress and her parents. The doctor, or her father as it should be called, still hadn’t let June forget it. He insisted on reminding his daughter daily, asking why couldn’t she be like her sister- a slave to society as June called her.

Sitting on the uncomfortable wooden bench, June grew impatient with her search for her book of matches through her thoughts. Averting her eyes to the tip of her cigarette that remained unlit, looking as though she were cross eyed, June let out an annoyed sigh while reaching her hand into the inside pocket of her coat. With blonde curls falling delicately around the girl’s features while she looked down inside her coat, June tightened her lips to keep her cigarette from falling from her mouth while in a huff not being able to find the matches she was sure was in one of the many pockets in her coat.

“Damn it to hell.”, June growled with the cigarette falling onto her lap. Looking at it, stained with the shape of red lips, the girl dropped her shoulders and leaned back just in time to see an unimpressed woman covering the ears of her children and quickly scooting away from June. Frustrated with her lack of flame, June picked up the white cigarette and just looked at it before rolling her eyes aspirated.

[topher costello]

The Winter afternoon was hazy and the snow had freshly fallen in the morn. His onyx trench coat match the black loafers that covered his feet as he kicked the snow that fell onto his trail. Sidewalks were named quite appropriately. Some trees were hoarding bits of slush and Topher hoped to not wind up with a wet head, stuffing his white-knuckled fists into his coat pocket. A new hat was on the agenda today and Topher was in town just for that goal. Slowly meandering as he passed a few apartment complexes. A few children were playing on the fire escape and below near the trashcans. Kids… Smirking, Topher nodded at them as a little girl waved at him and another child was trying to hit him with a snowball. “Nice try…now…aim for the trashcan and see what you hit…” Oh, the youth.

Shaking his head as the little boy tried again, Topher turned away, facing his destination direction. He really wanted to get a new hat before the night came upon Chicago. Topher was a dedicated businessman and always opened his shop at 6 PM. Two hours, then a few hours of a break and then he opened once more at 11PM to get those who are too drunk to even realize where up and down were. The poor suckers that came by and the ones that knew exactly what they want. Topher loved all those kinds of people and yet, he hated them as well. It was a conflicting thing. Pulling out a cigarette from his back pocket, the Irish boy turned the corner onto North Street. Balancing the white tobacco stick between his lips, Topher flicked on his lighter, bringing the flame toward his mouth, cupping the lighter to keep the flame alive. He inhaled a few small puffs to start the ashes up and then pocketed the lighter as his stride quickened only slightly in pace.

Posters of the new shows coming to town were all bland with black and white images, but the bold print always caught one’s eye. Topher noticed that The Rivals would be playing next week and he was slightly intrigued. Hmm…I wonder how that will be… He wasn’t much for shows, but every now and then Topher did find such things are interesting. After all, if the show was a plop, Topher could always leave at intermission and just sell things. It was a win-win situation. Looking down, he noticed that there was a play bill sticking to the sole of his shoe, making him stop in mid-step and picked it off.

"Damn it to hell.”

He heard a curse come from right before him and Topher stole a glance at the girl sitting on the wooden bench just around the corner. She was quite lovely and had a dying cigarette on her lap. Strange place to have it, but whatever suited her he supposed. “Excuse me, would you happen to know what the time is?” he asked nonchalantly, knowing exactly what the time was considering he had a watch just under his sleeve. Idle chit chat. Not on the to-do list for today, but Topher could scrape a few moments before buying a new fedora. He could even ask her if she had any suggestions. The girl didn’t seem to take any consideration to what Topher had asked, but she seemed more concerned with her cigarette as she placed it back to her lips. “Need a light?” he offered, taking the empty part of the bench, completely ignoring the woman just adjacent to them with her children. Sometimes Topher wondered how people even got by.

[june colbert]

June rolled the cigarette between her fingers. At home, her mother smoked like a chimney. She placed her cigarettes in the long holders and would bite on its tip while sucking the smoke from cigarette. She figured Annabel thought if she was going to smoke she would do so with some class. Few times June had stolen her mother’s cigarette holder, but after sneaking some many butts and holding them so close to her face she did not like the cigarette being so far away from her. Putting the cigarette back between her lips, June placed one hand into the last pocket she hadn’t checked but stopped when she heard the voice of a male. Quickly raising the large baby blues inside the sockets of her eyes, June looked at the young man in front of her.

“I wouldn’t, sorry.”, June said dully and let a faint form of expression tilt her full red lips tilt into a subtle smile. It wasn’t that June had intentions of being rude, from her dull answer. She normally didn’t bother with ‘time’ which explained her constant tardiness, well that and June didn’t carry a watch. They reminded her of the golden circular pocket watch her father carried on a thick chain. He was always checking the damned thing as though he were about to say their time was up. The white cigarette hung loosely from her lips and June was sure her image was being tainted with thoughts of insanity by anyone who had been watching her. They probably assumed she thought she was smoking her cigarette as many times as she had put it into her mouth, but she needed a-

“Need a light?”

June turned her head removing the cigarette from her mouth, holding it between two slender fingers and watched while the young man sat on the bench next to her. The subtle smile on her face had changed to a delighted smirk, as was normal for the young woman. A short, light and airy laugh escaped from the girl’s mouth and she gave a slight nod, “I do, actually. I could have sworn I was carrying a book of matches…” June’s voice died off and she turned her body to face the stranger who had taken the seat beside her. He had what she wanted, a simple flame to burn an end to the cigarette at her fingertips filled with tobacco. Putting the cigarette back to her lips, June flashed her blue eyes up to the young man’s face waiting for his light.

[topher costello]

The girl was lovely to say the least. Her skin was fair, but just a hint darker in tone than the snow around them. Topher licked his lips as she responded to him, simply placing the cigarette between her slim, but long fingers as she brought the stick to her colored lips. Smirking slightly, Topher’s lips slowly pushed his lit cigarette to the right side of his mouth. The girl’s blue eyes flickered up at him as he leaned closer, flicking the flame of his lighter, cupping the small flame from the light breeze. “There you go…” he voiced, leaning his body back toward the backing of the wooden bench, blowing out the flame. Taking his own cigarette into his left hand, between his pointer and middle fingers, Topher blew out a puff of smoke, letting the smoggy air trail from his lips as he brought them to a close. Planting his elbows on the top of the backing of the wooden bench, Topher lightly nudged the girl, unintentionally, but stole a quick glance at her anyway. “So…why are you sitting all alone with a dud of a stick?” he asked, not letting his chocolate brown hues take another glance at her. Topher was never good with eye contact, especially in the day time. He needed a drink or something.

The air around the pair darkened with a cloud of smoke from each puff that was released and the snow near Topher’s brown loafers were sprinkled with ashes. Hmmm…I might need new slicks… he thought, taking a rather long glance at his shoes. The right one had a scuff mark and though Topher didn’t seem the type, he hated dirty things. Especially his things. Crossing his left foot over his right, covering said mark, the Irish lad lifted his head back up and leaned it up until his mouth was ninety degrees in the air. Taking hold of the ashy filter with his fingers once more, Topher threw the bud down and slowly expelled the smoke, making little O rings. He mastered this when he mastered pot. The leaves were always going to be his quick fix, and right now was good time to have such a fix. Distant coughing slowly faded as a rather ruffled woman and her children rushed away from the pair. Topher didn’t really give a damn; he just snickered and used his right hand, leaning forward, to take out his box and lighter once more.

Topher nodded at the appropriate times when the girl spoke, not really taking any of her words in completely. He wasn’t much of a listener. It wasn’t that Topher was a jackass, but he just didn’t have the attention span to possibly take in everything anyone really said to him. A side effect from smoking and drinking so often, so kids, don’t do drugs or drink, it’s bad. Too bad Topher never learned that as a child. No, he was raised on drugs. Granted, the drugs that Topher was on before were his prescribed medications. He still took some of those every so often, mainly to keep his mother satisfied. Honestly, the things never worked anymore, but that’s tolerance. Gripping a virgin cigarette with his front teeth, coaxing them with his lips, Topher cupped his lighter and reignited the flame. A few sucks through the filter and the flame had penetrated through the paper. “Today is a nice day…” he stated merely at random, not necessarily steering his words to the girl next to him. The girl. He never asked her for a name. “I’m really rude. I’m sorry. I’m Topher, and you are?” he added, turning the top half of his body toward her and actually looking at her face. A chuckle sneaked from his lips as a trail of smoke emitted from the opening above his bottom lip and from the newly burned ashes. Topher was never rude on purpose, but he might’ve given the girl the wrong idea. Awkward. But, then again, if she didn’t want to talk to him, he wasn’t going to kill himself over it. Chicago was a busy city, so Topher could always find someone else. “You drink?” Asking for a drink already? Well, he was thirsty and the chipper cold was killing his lips. Perhaps the boy should invest in chapstick, he really wasn’t sure, but his eyes were drying from the crisp wind also. Blinking a few times to moisten his eyes, Topher tapped his foot on the other, making a small squeak sound as the shoes rubbed. “I’m just asking since I’m on the dry side…” he mentioned nonchalantly, flicking the rest of his cigarette. Smoking tobacco wasn’t enough for this nineteen-year-old.