In the winter we hid in the safety of our smoke screen. We used to stand in the cold of your porch, watching the fag smoke curl upwards into the starlit dark. We avoided the subject.
We talked about everything else instead – put the world to rights, laughed at my stupid jokes and your acerbic wit and criticised the digital obsessed world. During pauses in our conversation, when it might have been right and proper to raise the subject, we played music and critiqued that. To distract ourselves further one night, we went dancing and our antics made you believe that people thought we were crazy. I just didn’t care, but then I never did care enough, did I? We were safe in our bubble, we avoided the subject.
It turns out that all through last winter, you were waiting for your moment to raise it, to end things between us, to recede and disappear like our fag smoke disintegrating into night air. Me, toking on my cig, laughing at your humour, all happy and secure, I had no idea. I thought we could avoid the subject forever.
Well, the Spring came, didn’t it? The light revealed a fraudulent friendship and there was no hiding anymore ... You picked your moment then and I? Finding myself unable to watch smoke curling upwards, I gave up cigarettes and got myself through the summer. Now that the nights are drawing in again, I find myself wanting to stand on your porch and share a cigarette with you.
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