the one who got away.

A Story by Jess Diaz

She watched her cigarette dance as it weaved through her fingers. The smell of burning wood from fireplaces hoovers over the fresh scent of cool rain. Her tattered porch became weaker while it soaks with the water, and soon her breath became visible with the temperature. It was the middle of fall, but more so seemed like winter. She watched the sky light with strikes, and the earth erupt with its vicious booms. Puffs of smoke crept from between her soft lips and with every breath, the closer she came to her death. The embrace of sweet nicotine could only calm her empty heart and tangled mind. Alone she sits, only with the hope of feeling life once again.  

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The material of his sneakers began to wither as he walked in the center of the flooded road; the street lights guiding him home. The winds strength had become far greater than moments ago. Regardless of the cold, he embraced the beauty of the storm. Along the jagged road he came across a home. A single porch light to catch his eye while a figure sat upon the front step. Curiosity had stolen his control while he grew closer. A familiar face he saw, with a cigarette between the lips. Her eyes that shined so bright defeated the purpose of that one porch light. He has known this girl for quite some time, but when he called to her she kept silent. The taste of smoke burned his taste buds with how close he had come. She continued to ignore his cries as if he weren’t even there. As if he were a dead man whom did not matter. What this girl was to him before does not exist anymore.  He went home and cried. His heart being torn in two. She must not have been the girl he thought he knew. He wondered how she could not see him. This woman, he could have sworn had loved. His cheeks now stained with tears, he lays down on his cold bedroom floor. This hurt he feels because of her, but remembers all that he had given her. It must not have been real, for what he thought to have been to her before, does not exist anymore.