Thursday, June 3, 2010

Embers

The cigarette rests long and slim between her fingers. She touches the filter with the tip of her thumb, her thoughts far away. She brings it close to her parted lips; she stops.

A smile kisses her mouth and then it is gone.

The cigarette takes its place; she puffs. She inhales, deeply, as if taking so much of it in could keep it there forever - she even holds her breath for a while. The smoke lazily flirts with her cheek as she, just as lazily, breathes it out. Her eyes, tinged scarlet from lack of sleep and, perhaps, from the smoke's caress, find themselves fixated on the burning tip of the Marlboro Black. Just a few more sips, she thinks, and then it'll be over.


She takes another puff, a little hurriedly, as if anytime the whole thing would evaporate into a hazy gray of smoke and regrets that would sting her eyes just as would reality. It'll be over. And the teasing smoke frames her face as her eyebrows furrow, as if it takes pleasure in her confusion. He probably does.

She flicks the cigarette away and a few burnt, dried bits of tobacco leaves scatter as it hits the ground. She doesn't dare look back to see if the smoldering remains have been put out.

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