Parking Lot Smoke

The last employee's car pulls out of the lot and Jasmynn steps into the night air, uniform still smelling of grease and oregano. Carl is there, straddling his motorcycle, one boot on the pavement, cigarette smoke curling from his lips. His eyes find her in the dark like he knew she'd come eventually. She stops ten feet away, arms crossed, heart hammering so hard she can taste it. 'You missed your window,' she says, but her voice cracks on the last word, and he grinds out the cigarette and stands, closing the distance in three steps.