my numb fingertips press against the burning mug of coffee. it hurts, but i barely notice.
"you know i have to do this."
"i know." i respond, concentrating on the steam making my face hot.
"you know i don't want to do this."
i almost laughed, through my emotionless self. "could've fooled me." i mumbled.
inside, i wanted to scream and smash the mug of coffee on the ground. i wanted to slap him, kick him, hug him, kiss him. i wanted to cry.
his soft fingers touch mine delicately, and i flinch. he pulls them back, and i rest my hands in my lap.
he sighed, exasperated. i knew i was being difficult, but how the fuck else was i supposed to act like? he was leaving. after everything we've been through, all those years, all those memories. they're still going to be there, but without his physical manifestation to remind me of them, they will be like a long-ago book i read. i remember, but it's not vivid.
he grabbed his coat and left, before standing there as if hesitant. as if maybe he will stay. or if maybe i will stop being a stubborn bitch, and i knew that i wanted to stop being one so badly, and just appreciate the minuscule time we have left with one another. my brain throbs from my thoughts yelling go hug him! quick, before it's too late!
but i couldn't move, and it didn't look like i cared at all. it looked like i was pissed and an asshole.
*
i lay in bed awake, wearing his hoodie because i love his scent and the warmth and comfort it brings. it feels like home on my skin.
there's a pressure of exhaustion around my eyes, and through the fog of tiredness there's a wire in me that's sparking with wakeness, and i can't bring my eyelids to a close.
the illumination of silver from the moon hindered my want for sleep - a way out, a way to forget for a little while - and i found my fingers opening the drawer which held sticks of tobacco and a tiny torch that inflames them.
josh was the smoker, not me. but just pressing the thing against my nostrils and inhaling the scent slightly brought back him for a little while. his smell of pine and tobacco and smoke, and it was a wonderful smell because it was his.
i sparked the lighter, and watched the flame for a little while, as it danced around the darkness of my room. the slightest of a breeze destroyed it. i stick the cigarette between my teeth, flicked the lighter on again and drew the flame to the end until trendils of tobacco shy beneath the harsh glow.
feeling the bittersweet smoke in my throat, then my lungs, burning them, felt like a piece of him. a piece of our nights in together, getting stoned and drinking and smoking. cuddling up together in a stupid, pleasant haze of happiness. kisses that tasted of stale smoke, but it didn't matter. not when it was josh.
the hand that clutches the cigarette shakes slightly, my whole body trembles, and a tear splats onto my hand. i collapse to the floor, breathing hard, sobbing as quietly as i could muster.
i bring it to my mouth once more, as if it was his lips, and inhale, as if i was smoking out my lungs as much as they could bare.
