Beehive Cafe

We sat
across a table
dappled with butter sun
Sipping black coffee
smoke snaking
reading the newspaper
Here take this
you proffered
a book of matches
hitched jeans on hips
took your leave
People don’t still do that
I thought
But sure enough
a number scrawled inside
And I was left
to decide

Flash 55 for Real Toads!