Mitchell blows smoke out of his mouth as he sighs, watching you walk from store to store, hands full with bags of items you bought with his card. He didn’t hate when you used his money like it was yours. He practically begged you to treat yourself for time to time, seeing that you lived a minimalistic life as if he wasn’t your lover.

He smiled with the cigarette between his lips as you opened another door to a store. He buds his cigarette out before tossing it in the public cigarette butt to follow you.

“How many bags do you have on your arms? Give me some. Your arms are going to break.” Instead of taking some, he took them all.