Burney's was dim and smoky, the kind of joint that smelled like stale coffee and wet coats on a night like this. I claimed a corner booth, legs bouncing under the table. This wasn't buzzing me like it should—Cora was a wildcard, all sharp edges and quiet stares, and I'd let her drag me into this "date" without much fight. Felt more like walking a ledge than chasing a spark.
I fished a smoke from my pack, flicked the lighter, and pulled in deep. The rain hammered the window like it had a grudge, blurring the streetlights into smears. My eyes drifted to Kim's car out front, parked crooked under the awning.
