SomewhatIdyllic
12-02-2010, 07:08 PM
In a place oh so familiar, in a land startlingly similar, rests a young man. His bright blue eyes were tinged with just a hint of green, as if the planet itself was contained beneath his lids. His dark chestnut hair lay carelessly skewed across the pillow. The ceiling fan above silently hummed along, tossing colder air onto his youthful face. He wasn't a boy anymore, no no, he passed that stage. At sixteen, he lost his virginity to his first love, and at eighteen decided it was high time to branch out into the world. He packed his things, gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, and moved into the only place he could find. This dingy one bedroom apartment was all his. Well, as much as it could be for a rental. He was prepared for life, he was prepared to receive all the good and the bad potential in store for him.
He listed about in his bed for a while, sleep escaping him. The pack of cigarettes stood triumphant on his desk, right next to his keys, wallet and other necessities. The ripped corners, and crinkled face betrayed the fact that the pack was not full. No, instead it contained only three cigarettes. Three Djarum blacks, isolated in the bottom right corner. He still hasn't figured out why she gave them to him. Why three? Was she so cheap she couldn't afford the whole pack? The more he pondered on it, the more vague it seemed in his head. She just knew. That was all his mind could agree on. He didn't even have a lighter, let alone smoke. Well, that's not entirely true, he had smoked before. But never chronically, or had his own pack. She knew that.
The sun finally crawled up and over the hill of day. The light was flat in his room, leaving no object with shadow. The black pack still stared at him from atop its perch. He fingered the top, lifting it just a crack, the smell escaping the container in an instant. The rich aroma breezed through his nostrils. His nerves quieted down just a tad, the bleakness left his eyes for just a moment. He slipped the pack into his chest pocket of his well worn jacket, and left his apartment.
The dreariness of the weekend continued out into the street. The trees seemed to slouch just a tad, the leaves hung limp from the branches. There was not a bird in the sky, for even they felt heavy. There would be only one way to brighten his day, and with a snap, he tightened his coat and was off.
The smell of familiar espresso and the noise of a blender were reassuring. He would be alright once he got some caffeine into him, or at least that was the hope. The young girl at the counter, the same for so many days before, greeted him cheerily. But then she brought her up. That name, he couldn't escape it. He hadn't said it in his head since it happened. To hear it was like having his stomach collapse once more. His heart began to race. He mumbled some incoherent answer, and before his coffee arrived, he had already left.
His pockets seemed to be stitched closed as he fumbled for that black angel. The sweet coating of the filter, the instant savory aroma, and the crack of a lighter. With the first exhale, he felt his heart slow, and his mind began to calm. The nicotine washed over him quickly, and the head rush and buzz left him feeling content. Each puff left him feeling more and more relaxed until his stress relief had reached its end.
With a calmer head, he went back inside the coffee shop. The counter girl had left to the back, and his coffee was sitting in the prepared area, untouched. He sat in his favorite spot, right by the window, with a clear view of the street. He loved to people watch, trying to guess what kind of person they were. She was good at it too, really good. She always left him astounded, correctly predicting their upcoming behavior, or at least as much as they could see. She always knew exactly what was going on in his mind. She kept him honest, for she knew exactly when he lied. The coffee now at the grits, he cleaned up his table and left.
The streets had brightened just a tad, the sun finally starting to make an effort. The early winter trees, with what little leaves they had left, now cast bone thin shadows across the pavement. He decided to walk to the spot, the one that just overlooked the neighboring cities and waterfront. His mind, now with purpose, was clear and determined. A simple goal was a goal nonetheless. It would be baby steps, just baby steps.
The spot never changes. He had been tempted to a few times to leave something valuable, just to see if others came there. Maybe now he will, leave it for some other young couple, hopelessly in love. Or maybe this was his curse. Maybe it was this spot that ended it for him. But how could that be? The second time through, he was sure of it. He knew he was in love. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for her. His heart began to race once more, his breaths became short. He paced around the little clearing, back and forth, back and forth. His eyes caught something on one of the trees, betrayed by the slightest bit of silver. He walked towards it, the small silver pendant gently rocking back and forth. Beneath it, was her name and his. Her name. The tears started to well in his eyes. He must not think about it, he can not.
With clumsy hands, he reached for the pack once more. The black stick hanging loosely in his fingers and he exhaled that glorious puff of smoke. Once more, his nerves calmed down. Once more his heart slowed. Once more he felt peace. He quickly left the spot, leaving the pendant to gleam in the sunlight.
The walk back was always more treacherous than the walk there. He would always have to carry her through the last bit, because she simply wasn't strong enough. He didn't mind being her protector, or her gorilla. She was his lady, and he would be her man. An ape in shining armor, he continually courted her. Bringing her gifts regularly, and making sure she knew she was beautiful, and that she was loved. He never cared for anything more in his life. He would've taken a bullet for her.
His way home was filled with people dressed in black. There was a funeral today, and people were just starting to make it home. He passed her home, and walked quickly. The specks of light and white passed quickly through his peripherals. His home was only a little bit further, but his paced still quickened. He had never been more relieved to see those ratty numbers hanging on his door. Tucked onto the handle was todays newspaper, he must have missed it when he left. The headlines were the usual war, crime and politics. He casually flipped through the paper, stopping at the very last page. There she was. Her name once more. Her eyes looked back onto his, the ink now lifelike. He saw her, he saw the tear trickle down her cheek. His heart could not take it any longer, his mind was destroying itself.
He quickly exited out onto his balcony, and once more fumbled for the pack. It was his last cigarette. She knew all along. She knew exactly how many it would take. With one last drag, he finally got his chance. And with a smile, took the one he should have taken for her.
He listed about in his bed for a while, sleep escaping him. The pack of cigarettes stood triumphant on his desk, right next to his keys, wallet and other necessities. The ripped corners, and crinkled face betrayed the fact that the pack was not full. No, instead it contained only three cigarettes. Three Djarum blacks, isolated in the bottom right corner. He still hasn't figured out why she gave them to him. Why three? Was she so cheap she couldn't afford the whole pack? The more he pondered on it, the more vague it seemed in his head. She just knew. That was all his mind could agree on. He didn't even have a lighter, let alone smoke. Well, that's not entirely true, he had smoked before. But never chronically, or had his own pack. She knew that.
The sun finally crawled up and over the hill of day. The light was flat in his room, leaving no object with shadow. The black pack still stared at him from atop its perch. He fingered the top, lifting it just a crack, the smell escaping the container in an instant. The rich aroma breezed through his nostrils. His nerves quieted down just a tad, the bleakness left his eyes for just a moment. He slipped the pack into his chest pocket of his well worn jacket, and left his apartment.
The dreariness of the weekend continued out into the street. The trees seemed to slouch just a tad, the leaves hung limp from the branches. There was not a bird in the sky, for even they felt heavy. There would be only one way to brighten his day, and with a snap, he tightened his coat and was off.
The smell of familiar espresso and the noise of a blender were reassuring. He would be alright once he got some caffeine into him, or at least that was the hope. The young girl at the counter, the same for so many days before, greeted him cheerily. But then she brought her up. That name, he couldn't escape it. He hadn't said it in his head since it happened. To hear it was like having his stomach collapse once more. His heart began to race. He mumbled some incoherent answer, and before his coffee arrived, he had already left.
His pockets seemed to be stitched closed as he fumbled for that black angel. The sweet coating of the filter, the instant savory aroma, and the crack of a lighter. With the first exhale, he felt his heart slow, and his mind began to calm. The nicotine washed over him quickly, and the head rush and buzz left him feeling content. Each puff left him feeling more and more relaxed until his stress relief had reached its end.
With a calmer head, he went back inside the coffee shop. The counter girl had left to the back, and his coffee was sitting in the prepared area, untouched. He sat in his favorite spot, right by the window, with a clear view of the street. He loved to people watch, trying to guess what kind of person they were. She was good at it too, really good. She always left him astounded, correctly predicting their upcoming behavior, or at least as much as they could see. She always knew exactly what was going on in his mind. She kept him honest, for she knew exactly when he lied. The coffee now at the grits, he cleaned up his table and left.
The streets had brightened just a tad, the sun finally starting to make an effort. The early winter trees, with what little leaves they had left, now cast bone thin shadows across the pavement. He decided to walk to the spot, the one that just overlooked the neighboring cities and waterfront. His mind, now with purpose, was clear and determined. A simple goal was a goal nonetheless. It would be baby steps, just baby steps.
The spot never changes. He had been tempted to a few times to leave something valuable, just to see if others came there. Maybe now he will, leave it for some other young couple, hopelessly in love. Or maybe this was his curse. Maybe it was this spot that ended it for him. But how could that be? The second time through, he was sure of it. He knew he was in love. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for her. His heart began to race once more, his breaths became short. He paced around the little clearing, back and forth, back and forth. His eyes caught something on one of the trees, betrayed by the slightest bit of silver. He walked towards it, the small silver pendant gently rocking back and forth. Beneath it, was her name and his. Her name. The tears started to well in his eyes. He must not think about it, he can not.
With clumsy hands, he reached for the pack once more. The black stick hanging loosely in his fingers and he exhaled that glorious puff of smoke. Once more, his nerves calmed down. Once more his heart slowed. Once more he felt peace. He quickly left the spot, leaving the pendant to gleam in the sunlight.
The walk back was always more treacherous than the walk there. He would always have to carry her through the last bit, because she simply wasn't strong enough. He didn't mind being her protector, or her gorilla. She was his lady, and he would be her man. An ape in shining armor, he continually courted her. Bringing her gifts regularly, and making sure she knew she was beautiful, and that she was loved. He never cared for anything more in his life. He would've taken a bullet for her.
His way home was filled with people dressed in black. There was a funeral today, and people were just starting to make it home. He passed her home, and walked quickly. The specks of light and white passed quickly through his peripherals. His home was only a little bit further, but his paced still quickened. He had never been more relieved to see those ratty numbers hanging on his door. Tucked onto the handle was todays newspaper, he must have missed it when he left. The headlines were the usual war, crime and politics. He casually flipped through the paper, stopping at the very last page. There she was. Her name once more. Her eyes looked back onto his, the ink now lifelike. He saw her, he saw the tear trickle down her cheek. His heart could not take it any longer, his mind was destroying itself.
He quickly exited out onto his balcony, and once more fumbled for the pack. It was his last cigarette. She knew all along. She knew exactly how many it would take. With one last drag, he finally got his chance. And with a smile, took the one he should have taken for her.