An In between

I'm sick.  Oh yes, sick.  Like feverish and sipon-ish (colds).  And I'm smoking cigarettes when the rain grows weary of it's constant downpour.

I sent you a message.  Today, like I do most days.  Like you do most days, I wait, and usually for nothing.  Today's no different.  Probably why I have tomorrow.

I'm still waiting.  Maybe when you do reply, it will be something worth talking about.  Until then, my cigarettes, and memories of smoking Reds beside you on rainy will keep me company.

cheers.