James sits on the pavement in a dark Monday night. The sky swallowed cottony clouds, consuming them to its gluttony. The stars shone bright, but somehow they still lack the empathy he needs. For a second, he squeezed back the cigarette between his dry lips, hoping it would be the answer. It was a cliche, you know? The idea of people executing the agony their inner demons had bred through bittersweet chemicals. And maybe James is just one of those people. There wasn't any other substitute for him than cartons of Marlboro stacked up in his drawers safely. Besides, just from the sight of it, it had become his friend. 'Smoke up, Jamie,' he imagined a voice hurl.
'Oh, Danielle,' he murmured, escaping dirty smog from his mouth. Once again, he sighed and took another drag, thinking of his lover.
۞
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