He sparked another cigarette, and stared at the distance as he took a deep breath. Was it the fourth cigarette? Or the fifth? He forgot how much he smoked because all he could only think of was the silky touch of her skin. On the other hand, she took down another shot of rum, and raised her hand for another or two. She did not know how much she drank, but she did not seem to care too much about it. She only knew that it still was not enough to erase the thought of his smile. They yearned so much for each other, but they had to pretend that neither one of them existed to the other.