Cigarette Smoke // FILLIE

Endless Fog

       Peering out the windshield I spot the old wooden pier raising from the dark, murky waters.

The pier was built by one of the old folk when they were in their prime; long before either of us were even existent.

"You got memories here?" A low voice asks skeptically, probably in question to how I've kept staring even though the car came to a halt a minute ago.

Snapping myself into reality, I turn to him with a reminiscent smile and nod gently.

"Alright then, let's make some more." Finn insists carelessly, though his words don't match his tone I nod regardless as we both climb out of the black charger.

I watch as Finn walks around to the trunk of the car, lifting it up and shutting it quickly with two fold-out chairs now gathered in his right arm.

Did he plan this before asking me? No, surely not. He probably does this with someone else pretty often or something.

"Mind if I ask why you have chairs in your car?" I ask abruptly, not realizing the words have slipped from my mind through my lips until his curious eyes have met mine with a gleam of confusion present in them.

He shrugs, "It's not something I want to explain." I furrow my eyebrows as I only become more intrigued by the secrets he holds dear.

"Aren't I suppose to be learning about you? It's kinda hard to do if you don't answer my questions." I explain as I follow him down the pier and listen to the satisfying sound of the old wood against our shoes.

Finn sighs the deepest sigh he has yet. "Okay fine, sit down first though. Then I'll tell you." He instructs while folding out the chairs and setting them down.

Nodding, I sit down in the old fold-out and cross my legs over one another, ready for a story from the mysterious boy.

With a huff he plants himself in the chair, obviously feeling at home as he holds his cigarette in between his fingers and stares out at the musty fog that roams over the dark, still water.

"My parents.. let's just say they aren't around. I live with a guy who's a good friend of my grandfather that passed away long after my grandmother did. But when he was alive, he brought me out here in that same car, with these same chairs, and we'd fish together on this very dock. When he died that car and these chairs.. they became mine." He explains, taking a pause between sentences to inhale and exhale from his cigarette.

"I'm sorry for your loss." I mutter sheepishly, only receiving a shrug as a reply. "It was a long time ago, Brit. I wouldn't feel too bad for me." He brushes off, flicking the last of his cancer stick into the water residing underneath the fog.

"Still, death hurts no matter how long it's been." I state as the reminder of my father seems to taunt me in my mind.

Finn's gaze falls on me as his eyebrows raise suspiciously as if to question how I might've read him.

"Yeah.. you- uh, you lose somebody?" He asks awkwardly with a squint of his eyes. My lips press together as I slowly nod, "My dad." I answer through a croak as a boulder of pain heaps in my throat, testing my waterworks to their limit.

"How long ago?" He questions gently, biting his lower lip when a single hot tear rolls down my cheek.

Finn nods gently to show he didn't need an answer and as if he could feel my pain and sorrow; gulping as he stares out at the endless fog.

"I'm not going to say it gets better, because it doesn't. But I will tell you it gets easier, Millie." The curly haired boy assures using a gentle tone I didn't know he could obtain.