Letting Go

Questioning

"Ella, why did he do it?"

It was now 1:27 AM

I was tired and grumpy and torn by what I had witnessed

"If I knew why he did it, I would tell you. But I don't. Why don't you ask someone else. I want to go home, I'm tired of this." I growled at the officer who sat across from me at the table.

"Okay." He said. He stood and walked me out.

I walked out of the building and sat on the curb with my head in my hands.

'Why did you do dude?'

I mumbled as I shook my head. I couldn't focus on anything. My reality went down the drain I had nothing left.

"You look like you need this." A deep voice said over my shoulder. I spun around to a man with a cigarette in his hand.

"Thank you. I really do." I took the death stick from his hand as he handed me a lighter.

"It'll all work out kiddo, don't worry about it." He called as he walked off.

I wasn't much of a smoker before, but man was it nice to force myself to breathe again.

I stood up and began to walk home. A lit cigarette in one hand, and what's left of my sanity in the other. I walked aimlessly through the crowd knowing that one of these dirty streets had to lead my home.

I noticed that nothing was beautiful. It was filthy. A swamp of disappointment and filth filled the streets. The buildings looked disgusting covered in graffiti and chewed gum. Panhandlers bagged for money and attention while business people strut around like they own the place. How disturbing.

I found the hole that I call home and entered. I slammed the door and slid my shoes off. I always had an emergency pack of smokes in the kitchen, and that's all I wanted at this moment.

I found myself on my bed with a carton of cigarettes playing your favorite song on repeat. I laid there for over three hours. Until, I found the sun up. I pulled the shades closed and returned to my mattress.