smoke and azure rae. smokes leaving.

The room was hazy from the smoke of his cigarette as I walked in. He stood, leaning against the wall eyes glued to the typewriter in front of him, his back pack next to it, and one blank sheet of paper, blindingly white and taunting, staring back. He was silent as I walked over to his bed letting myself sink in pressing against the springs.  The silence was loud, hanging in the air like his cigarette.

                “How are you?” I asked receiving only a shrug in reply. Where was his blaring music? The fast drums and screaming boys, whining out their sorrows into the mike. Shrieking voices that would soak into the walls at night making me feel less alone, assuring that I wasn’t the only one tossing and turning all night. I sat there begging him to speak with my eyes. After a few more moments of heavy silence he finally began. Turning his head slowly I watched his hair fall from his face, exposing his green eyes and tan freckles. The white of his eyes were dark red, as red as his walls. As he stared back at he parted his chapped lips “This city’s too hot I can’t stand it anymore. It’s as if, as if I can’t breathe, I’m suffocating here. The airs too heavy here. I can’t even walk out the door without feeling as if I’m on fire.”

“We’ll this is a desert town? What did you expect? No one ever leaves, and you go out at night anyways.”

“Well it doesn’t matter if it’s night or day. At night I can feel the heat rise from the streets. The city’s angry from being beaten by the sun all day. It never cools down, people come into the store and I watch them. Haggard, lonely, discontent, man, they come up to my register and some of them don’t even meet my eyes. Even the ones who are cheerful have this look, as if they’re missing something.”

As he inhaled his cigarette he looked away. Returning his eyes to his typewriter “I need to cool down, I need fresh air,” he said blowing smoke into the air. “I can’t write like this,” he whispered.

I couldn’t look at him. Shifting on his bed I began to feel my words catch in my throat, trapped the syllables began to dance on my tongue, trying to break the walls of my teeth and lips. I watched the light pouring in through the slit in his curtains. They were gray and threadbare but the sunlight gave them an orange glare. I could see the dust particles dancing and swaying, tumbling in the light before they disappeared.

“It’ll be a cold winter.” I finally choked out.

“I know.”

                When Leah left smoke picked up his typewriter off the floor. It was heavy and cold in his arms. After dropping it on his desk he lit up another cigarette and walked to the window staring out everything came back to him. His first night at the house when everyone sat down for dinner eating the turkey Aiden got for five bucks at the market.  Jay and the boys always coming in and out. Leah, the way she always smelled like strawberries. The hunger that haunted her eyes, the way they stayed up all night, talking about everything and anything.  The orange and pink skies that went on for miles.  He walked back to his typewriter and began to fill the page, slamming the memories down with the dark ink.