“Yeah well…at least I think of more glamorous ways to out myself. Lung cancer doesn’t sound so attractive to me,” she shuddered at the very thought.

“Neither does jumping off a building quite frankly,” I flicked the cigarette’s ash into the wind and turned to look at her. Charlotte had her sketchpad sitting on her legs, “What are you drawing?”

From the light she had on behind her I was able to see her cheeks turn a delicate pink, “I’m drawing you.”

“What do you mean? Let me see,” I put the cigarette out on the railing of the balcony and walked over so I was right across from her. The balconies here weren’t far apart, in fact they were close enough that I could hop over mine and land on hers.

“Well my assigment is to draw a hand so,” she showed me the perfect sketch of what I supposed was my hand holding my cigarette, “It’s not as classy, seeing as it’s a cigarette, but…well you’re my favorite model.”

When my eyes moved onto her face hers remained on the drawing, distant, like her mind was elsewhere.