He held a drink in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, desperately trying to oppress the weakness that his heart held for her lips, and her hair, and her scent and... her. The room was filled with the stench of her fake smile, melting hearts with pouts, giggles, and frowns. Her life was nothing more than a fatuous pursuit of significance. And him; angry and full of spite. The painful irony of his fully comprehensible naivety; and the dying crusade to divert her path towards him.
"Are you happy?" he mouthed from across the room, overthrown by the blind misinterpretation of her distance as indifference.
She nodded. He smiled.
If she only knew the persuasiveness of her lies.