[43] a

Late at night, after Thomas had dropped off Olive from the gathering.

"Sit here, Liv," her mother commands. A cigarette still lingers in her hand, and the smoke is still wafting, accompanied by a half-full coffee cup. Her mother claims that smoking without coffee doesn't feel right, though Olive can't quite fathom the correlation.

She's not a fan of either of those things. She's a bit puzzled, to be honest, why her mother is so fond of smoking and drinking coffee. But her face still glows, shimmers, and looks naturally beautiful. Supposedly, cigarette smoke can make wrinkles more visible, but not for her mother. What's her secret, anyway?

"Mom, aren't you working?" Olive asks with a hint of suspicion. It's already eight in the evening. Her mother is usually getting ready to head to the café to make some money.

"I took the day off today."

Olive's brow furrows. "I know your schedule. Today isn't a day off." She takes a seat beside her mother. The evening breeze that's been playing with