night, long, cold, hazy
still some hope of warmth..
empty resto, almost
pizzas, cups of coffee-bitter but likable
the forlorn six string in the background..
very few fingerprints on the frets..
'hazaar' complex conversations..
concealing the simple story..
glances, anticipating looks,
eyes saying something, meaning nothing
walks, to and fro..
nagging questions, unconvincing answers
the point and the uneasy silence
the long cold ride back, alone
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