Omaha clubs

As you light your cigar, your eyes lock in on a glimpse of amber in white ash, a silky, oiled wrapper. Steel brushes cymbal and the stand up bass suspends mid pizzicato. You breathe in deeply.

And again. Why does it taste so damn good? Who knows? But, you wish that time could freeze like this for just a moment longer. Long enough to sink into the seat of a sky blue ’55 Cadillac. Windows rolled down, ocean breeze in your hair. It smells like salt water and perfume, strong coffee and chocolate flower. Hips