prosaparte

The taste of sex rose towards the night sky with each puff. The smoke curved itself recalling the passion the smoker was trying to leave behind. Yeah, the fuck had been mighty, brutal as swimming in lava. But that didn't matter anymore. There were thousands of bucks in rum under his feet, and he was going to steal it all from her owner over her dead body.

It was ugly, but not without charm. So much that Kate couldn't help going over to the bay window to gaze at the enormous regolith block outside. Polished and shaped like a keel against the faint wind of Mars, it endured stoic the martian dust's sharp abrasion, although the rust had already infected it with the planet's reddish hue. And soon it would have to bear again the weak temper of that desolated star. Summer had already arrived to the south hemisphere, bringing it's usual huge dust storm with it.