a quote out of context

he had a look on his face that could only be described as defeat, distraction, and denial of the aforementioned. he took a lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette he'd been studying since he arrived an hour before. the streets were dead and it seemed the little coffee shop, with it's bohemian air, was the only evidence of life in this town anymore.
flick. spark. inhale.
the first drag reminded him of his last, and how nothing holds significance anymore.
i'm in a rut.

the words fell short of a legitimate statement, whispered into his notebook between drags. he needed something that could only be described as solidarity, solution, and solace that the face across the table held everything but.
blink. sigh. exhale.
she looked as an angel would, the smoke circling in a make-shift halo, if an angel were to grow tired of the pursuit of perfection and depreciate the damaged souls outlawed by god; a misconception of grace. she reaches for the notebook, his pen in mid-scrawl, mind in mid-muse, before asking,
can i see what you've got so far?
she looks at what can only be described as a mess of empty phrases, misconstrued as a conscious stream of thoughts; a vain attempt to write life. he listens as she reads aloud the syllables and sentences, paragraphs and pauses, making light of his afflictions and giving way to an offbeat glance, stuttering the syntax. he shifts in his seat as she turns the page and continues,
and if ever there was a quote out of context, i'd be it. read aloud in a voice other than my own can only be described as the truest form of flattery.

you know, you're beautiful when you smile at me like you are right now.
and she was.
smiling. knowing. loved.