Ubiquitous

Smoke Clouds

I wrote this story after watching the Dead Poets Society. No relations whatsoever to the movie, though. Still is a good movie, go watch it.

Cold nights are meant to be shared with someone. Cigarettes shouldn't be smoked alone. You shouldn't feel so lonely.

xxxxx

It's a sad night.

I take out a cigarette from it's carton and also the lighter from my pocket. The cigarette rests in between my lips as my finger flicks the lighter and flame appears from the nozzle. Smoke escapes the end of my fag and I put the lighter back in my pocket. I watch as the end turns red while I suck the life out of it. I remove the cigarette from my lips and keep the smoke in, only letting it go through my nose. I wish I could share this cigarette with someone.

It's a lonely night.

The cold air of the night makes me hold on tight to my coat. I feel like wrapping my head with my long auburn hair. I regret not taking the snow cap with me. But I guess you don't think much when you're creeping out of the house at 2 in the morning. This cigarette should keep me warm. Before I could attempt to wrap my neck with my hair, I hear footsteps in the snow. Faint ones.

It's a cold night.

I try not to turn around and look. I'm not sure what I'm expecting. Or what I should be expecting. This place isn't shy of crime activities. In fact, kidnappings are common. But then again, I'm out in the cold on my own at this hour. I'm asking for it. I turn around anyways.

It's a creepy night.

My neighbour's son walks towards me, also holding on tight to his coat. I watch him as he strides over to where I am and plops down to sit beside me with much poise in his figure. I rarely see him because he goes to a boarding school and the only time we get to meet is during Christmas breaks. We'd be the one passing casseroles to each other over the fence. Our faces would both be the same; contorted in an annoyed expression. I offer him my cigarette. He accepts it and puts it between his lips.

It's a shared night.

We stare ahead, not sure of what the view is. Everything is covered with snow. White, white everywhere. The sky is of a dark brown colour, contrasting the grounds. He passes the cigarette back to me. I drag the fag longer and remove it as I exhale clouds of smoke.

"That's an excellent brand of cigarettes you bought there." He says, not looking at me.

I nod and take another drag before whispering, "Thanks."

"Hi." He says, looking at me. His blue eyes rests on my hazel ones and for once, that night, did I feel like he finally acknowledges my existence.

"Hello." I reply, passing him the cigarette.

It's a friendly night.

Another minute passes by of the cigarette moving from my lips to his. My fingers to his. My breath to his. He inches closer to me. I could occasionally feel his gaze on me.

"How's school?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"I don't like to talk about it." He mutters. His cheeks caving in as he inhales the cigarette.

"Okay, cool." I reply nonchalantly. "Just wanted to know what it's like to be smart."

He laughs and says, "I'm not smart. Far off. But I try."

I wish I could cover myself with the warm honesty in his laugh. A snowflake lends on his neatly cut hair. I look up to find that it's snowing again. The cigarette won't be enough to keep me warm much longer. To keep both of us warm. His arm moves to my back and he pulls me in closer to him.

"It's getting colder." He says, smiling. I nod and inhale what's left of the cigarette. It's life has ended. I throw it on the ground and let the snow bury it. He watches as I kick some snow on the cigarette.

"Since it's dead, I might as well bury it." I laugh. He smiles, probably at the idea of me thinking of a cigarette as a human being. I ask, "What are you doing out here?"

"I thought it was a very melancholic night. I felt lonely." He sighs. "And then, from my window, I saw you walking out of the house."

"And you wanted to join me."

"Why, yes. That's why I'm here." He declares. "I want to share the night with someone."

He stares into the horizon, marvelling over the great view. I look at him and for once, in my life, I feel appreciated. By a stranger I've been passing casseroles to every Christmas. I feel acknowledged and loved. I wrap his waist with both of my arms and hug him, trying to get us both warm. He envelopes me in a tight embrace, rocking back and forth. Hey, we're sharing a cigarette. What's the harm in hugging?

It's a warm night.

The distant hum I heard before he came had vanished. I didn't even notice. I've always thought, after all those nights of smoking alone, that the hum is what I hear when I'm lonely. Not alone, but lonely. It keeps me company and assures me that everything will be okay. Just a small noise can disrupt the hum and it will disappear.

His slow breath replaces the hum. It actually calms me better than the hum ever did. Clouds of smoke escape his mouth once more, this time because of the coldness of the night. I rub my hands together and contemplate for awhile before pulling the carton of cigarette out of my coat, "Want another go?"

He shrugs, "Why not?"

copyright  © 2013 jeefberky