literature

He Walks On

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LiveMynd's avatar
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Literature Text

The man walks out of his office and stops to buy a pack of cigarettes. Menthol, because it has a smoother flavor. He remembers his high school days, when he and his buds would sneak smokes behind the men's rest room. No one ever went around to the back -- the stink wafting out from the door up front was enough to drive everyone but the most desperate away. Back then they smoked menthols believing they didn't smell as strongly -- and therefore they were less likely to be caught.

It's funny how they worried about being caught and took precautions against it, and still chose to do it. Perhaps they weren't in it for the cool factor that seemed like the whole world in high school. Maybe they did it because of the thrill of the forbidden. Breaking taboos together seemed to create iron-clad bonds of friendship.

He rips off the thin cellophane wrapper, and flips the top open. Not forgetting the strict enforcement of anti-littering laws, he stuffs the torn plastic into his coat pocket. He taps the bottom with a flick of a thumb, and out pop two sticks. He takes one and pushes the other back. He lights up and takes a drag.

He remembers his friend, who died young from lung cancer. Admittedly, the guy's family had a history of the dreaded big C. Still, it was probably the cigs that did him in. In his last days, he spouted regret for the lung rot that he inflicted upon himself. That's what you get, his friend said, when you smoke five packs a day.

He lets the smoke out in a stream through his lips. He was trying to quit. He got it down to one stick in the morning and one after work. He used to do 5 sticks a day. Obviously less than his friend. But he wanted to quit. The buggers were eating into his meager paycheck. After that huge fire that halved this year's tobacco crop, the price flew through the roof.

The bus he usually took had already left. He decided not to wait the half-hour before the next one. After pushing the stub of his smoke into a post to put it out and throwing it into a bin, he started walking. The city was a mishmash of light and shadows. Young couples passed by him, arms entwined, whispering sweet nothings. What it must be like, to be young and in love...

As he came to his street he heard the young couple fighting again. He lived in the next building, so he passed by that house often. They were at it again. Seems that both had committed infidelities. So much for "'Til Death do us part"...

They were really going this time. Before deciding on whether to call the cops, the man's train of thought was broken by a crash and a yowl from the alley between his building and the couple's. Upon looking, he found that a potted plant had fallen on a stray cat. Brained the poor guy to death. Was it from the warring couple's window sill? Perhaps. Regardless, there was nothing to do for the cat except breathe a small prayer for its soul.

He walks on. Never mind the couple -- they always got back together. Besides, conflicts like that were as common as hats. The cat had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Collateral damage. But the world doesn't stop when people die, so why should it do so for a cat?

He thought, tomorrow is another day, another day on this planet, in this life. If we stopped and let our hearts bleed for every injustice, we would never be able to move on. Upon reaching for his keys, he realizes he has an unlighted cigarette between his lips. He also notices that his hand was about to go into the pocket where he kept not his keys, but his lighter.

He whispers under his voice. Damn, I need to quit.
A short story I came up with a while ago. I'm not quite sure why I thought of putting it up on dA only now.

Next piece in the same style is up. Check it out at:
[link]
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eneromayo's avatar
I would never understand smokers for my health would never allow me but your story allowed me to see them, even if just a little, differently.

This is a nicely written story and I like it ^_^