Bald and thin as a blade, he looks like he might be North African. She’s the hottest girl in the nightclub. In black, leather short shorts and a sleeveless white undershirt, she looks like a gentle, kind version of Rihanna. They’re sitting on a sofa in the smoking area and every once in awhile he gets up, snaps his fingers to the music, shimmers with movement and flashes an easy, bright smile. It’s as if his entire life had been leading up to this one, perfect evening.
A handsome and confident young man, a few years older, approaches them. He’s wearing an expensive leather jacket that looks at home on him, almost accidental. He flips easily between French and English, bums a smoke from the girl and proceeds with an irresistible seduction. It’s a cruel display of power. The North African no longer shimmers or flashes his brilliant smile. His posture collapses and all vitality is drained from his face as the girl, now laughing and alert in a different way, lights her cigarette off of the newly dispensed one held so perfectly in the stranger’s hand.