All we are is just Smoke in the Wind.

Friends are done for the night.

‘Dude, I’m drunk.’ they said. And dozed off like the dead.

What if the rains stop now. And the silence resumes again.

She doesn’t want to be alone. No, not tonight. Not without the rain.

The grey puff rises ahead of her. She stares in awe at the smoke in her hand.

Across the window, she leans. To face the cold wind. To feel the cold touch.

To the dark world.

It pours down heavy. Little droplets fall at her feet.

She clicked a photo of the night. Stared at it deeply for a while.

A second cigarette she lights. She takes in. She takes it all.

Swifts away with the wind, the heavenly smoke from her hand.

She wishes she could too.

Rings against the curtain, she blows. In the aroma she drowns.

A feeling so strong, so unstable, so real. She grows weak. She grows numb.

In all her glory with a smile on her face, ‘Put this cigarette out for me, will you?!’ she murmurs.

To herself. To the night. To the rain.

..

And I wait for the sun to show up.