No Good Friend
Word count: 99
Simon and Phil raced onto the ferry, laughing obnoxiously and sat down opposite one other, windblown and red-cheeked.
“Gis a fag.” Simon ordered with a thrust of his chin.
Phil eyed the people around them. “It’s no smoking, Si.”
“So? I don’t care. Gis a fag.” His voice was steel.
Phil tugged the square black box from his anorak pocket, flipped the lid and pushed a cigarette out toward his companion who, after lighting, took a deep drag before blowing smoke in his face.
Simon flicked ash on the floor, sneering, daring Phil to say anything. Anything at all.