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Jane continued

She pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from the breast pocket of the white button-front mens workshirt she wore, placed it between her ruby-red lipsticked lips, and calmly lit it with the mini butane kitchen torch laying on the table. Tipping her chair back again,she propped her bare toes on the table edge and began to rock back and forth, taking deep drags of her cigarette and blowing a steady stream of smoke toward the weakly circling kitchen fan.
I walked dejectedly back over to the unoccupied chair at the card-table which served, with two ladderback chairs, as her dinette set, and flopped down into it. I was still disgruntled by her obvious disinterest in whatever it was I had been trying to say.
She got up and began pacing the small room, cigarette in mouth and feet pulling from the floor with a sucking sound at every step. She paused by my chair. “Want a drag?”. She proffered the half smoked Lucky. It had a lipstick line and needed to be ashed. “No thanks”. “Smart boy”, she said with a chuckle.

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