The trees whisper, their leaves telling quiet stories. It doesn't rain. It hasn't rained for a few days now. When we walk at night, while the people around sleep or settle in the front of their televisions, it's balmy but not unpleasant.

Back in our rooms, we talk about our days and thoughts; the smoke rings watch us from a height. I realize how some things always remind you of certain people, even if they're miles away.

Later, as I sink into the bed, I fall asleep thinking of you and wondering what you're doing. I fall asleep quickly, dreaming of failed cases and broken files, but atleast I don't wake up unhappy.