The cigarette seemed lonely.

As he smoked on the run down balcony of the run down building, he wished to be somewhere else. The sun, usually a joy for him, today seemed lonely too.

He imagined her. Stirring as the sun poured into her windows. Him, cooking sugar bacon. Them, on the deck, smoking, laughing, talking. Debriefing the week and the world. Wondering if her chemise was too indecent for Juan and Juanita.

“Maybe the next one will be better,” he lied to himself as he lit another.


3 Comments on “Cigarettes”

  1. […] She has a certain style permeating the pores of the odd house. She had offered to help Him with his ramshackle, but so far He had […]


  2. […] He left to return to his ramshackle. He had work to do and tarried a little to long at Suess. But tonight, after they had texted and […]


  3. […] He had promised He would quit smoking while they were apart. He wasn’t keeping that promise well. He had lost count of how many He had burned since waking at 3am, chain smoking in the 35 degrees of the balcony. […]


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