Her Coffee, His Cigarettes
She frowned down into her coffee, watched the steam trails rise off of it before evaporating into the air. She'd been sitting there since he'd walked out twenty minutes ago. They'd had a horrible fight. It had started with the money issue which just led to getting married, and babies, and it had only gotten worse and worse the more they fought. She didn't think he was coming back, not this time. Tears slipped from her eyes as she thought about everything she'd screamed at him, everything she wished she could take back. She wiped her eyes and noticed that the steam trails from her coffee had faded. It'd gotten cold…and he still didn't miss her. She started to wonder if he ever would.
…
He was ten cigarettes deep; he'd just opened the fucking pack an hour ago. He was chain smoking. He hated fighting with her but how the hell was he supposed to go back home? They'd both said some pretty nasty things, but he shouldn't have told her that she was holding him back, that she wasn't any good for him. If anything it was the other way around. He flicked his cigarette off the side of the bridge and pulled another from his pack and put it between his lips, lighting it. He was hoping that all of the nicotine in his system would help him forget the best damn thing in his life.