Fidelity.

I still remember what I saw, perhaps I'll never forget. She was standing there, at an ATM, leaning into the screen while slowly exhaling a plume of smoke. She moved in slow motion, or maybe not even at all. She never turned to look, even though I know she heard me and she damn well knew I was there. Jet black hair, black tank, blue jeans. It was almost midnight. I don't know a damn thing about her-- her name, her style, her way. All I know is that she was the epitome of cool. That's why I haven't forgot, and probably never will.