There was a couple, a white man and a black woman. They were older and wore assorted layers to keep out the slush. They brought toilet paper, paper towels, a crock pot and a green bag from Yokes into the bus stop, which was cubed in with glass and had metal benches that froze my butt. The man produced a pouch of tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette, and the woman's voice was low and murmuring. When he stood up she said something I couldn't hear.
"Because you can't smoke in here," he said, perfectly audible.
"I can," she said, like a come-on.
With the cigarette between he his teeth he pointed above me and said, "Read that sign. It says NO SHMOKING."
Then they stood outside together and left me with their groceries.
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