Jukebox Detroit

A succession of gray foreign cigarettes broke the monotony of brick red lipstick. She burned each one down to a red and blue ringed filter. She left them hanging there for indefinite periods of time. The smoke billowed in syncopation with every exaggerated breath that she took. Her stress pronounced itself in the emphatic whir heard when in her proximity. Levin couldn’t help noticing the enormity of those lips; The formidable rigidity of that building between Cass and Woodward. Somewhere behind a motionless wall, windowed teeth anxiously awaited reflection. Behind hardened flesh a tongue lay in wait. He waited anxiously for the damaging words to escape their confinement. Levin admired the steady building of pressure. Any moment, the meters would burst and the warning lights would turn on. Glancing at his watch, he crossed Cass Avenue and stepped through the door of Old Miami Bar.