Cigarette | l.p.

04

Morana looked up me. Eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion plastered on her freckle filled face.

"But you're happy." She almost questioned, leaning closer to me. I sighed, looking out at the quiet street, rain drops beating at it.

"Not everyone that smiles is happy." I huffed, looking down at my fiddling hands.

She leaned back against the brick wall, looking down in her lap. Her dark hair now looked darker because it was drenched in rain. The ends dripped with cold raindrops.

"Now do you want to try to come in again?" I asked wholeheartedly, standing up reaching for her hand. She stared blankly at it, contemplating her options.

After what felt like forever, she accepted, taking my hand in hers. She stood up, her hand shaking form the cold rain that she was sitting in.

I helped her back to my home, back to where she has been before.

The warmth of my home engulfed us, thawing our muscles and bones, out teeth still chattering. She sat the couch, her cold and wet body slowly warming. 

"Can I get you anything?" I ask slowly, careful of my word choice. 

"Some tea would be lovely." She smiles, her eyes lighting up. 

I make my way to the large kitchen, and begin her tea. My hand finds the familiar cigarette pack, taking one in between my lips and lighting it. 

When I walk back to the couch, Morana's eyes meet mine. 

"Why do you smoke?" She asks, taking a cigarette from my pack, insisting for me to lit it. 

"Distraction." I shrug, thinking of how smoking all started. "Why do you smoke?" I ask her, she looks down at her lit cigarette. 

"Same."