"It was a funny thing, it was a sad thing," she sighed, "about that thing that happened."
Nervously, I contemplated deep and heavy looks over the rim of my glass as I stared away from the direction of her voice. The rocks in my whiskey had melted down to pebblish icy flotsam congregating at the top.
She reached for the cigarettes between us. Cigarette lit, she blew smoky rings into the air above us as they dispersed into the jazzy air of the club around us.
"But ultimately, we all know the truth. About that thing. That happened."
I nodded half heartedly.
"She had some pretty strange relationships, y'know."
Again, I nodded. Let my silence be my complicity.
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