Just on the stone steps, sitting so very pretty. Don't mind me. Don't mind me.
Cold sunny day. Tasteless sunshine tries to kill me. Dig deeper into my cashmere sweater.
Take a drag.
I'm smoking, and the people who walk on by are wide-eyed in horror that I have what the Brits call a 'fag' limping between my lips.
Take a drag. Breathe in all that candy cancer.
Separate the crunchy stick from my painted lips. Hold it in between two fingers like a Hollywood starlet. Breathe out that sticky miasma in the faces of people who shouldn't give a shit.
Mostly housewives, nagging hand in hand.
'Isn't that Miss Kijiro?'
'A refined young lady like her shouldn't be smoking like a hooligan.'
Breathe out. Sweet tar cloud invades their faces; takes over their lungs. My ruby red lips smile as they scurry away, coughing and coughing.
Take a drag. Breathe in all that candy cancer.
Door opens somewhere behind me. I don't care. I don't care.
Footsteps on the stone leverages leading nowhere important. Step, step, and they stop just beside me.
Already I can smell his cologne; I'm trying to drown it in sweet tar, tar stench.
He sits beside me. And his cologne. So strong.
I ignore him. Take a drag. Breathe out.
"Didn't know you smoked," a wash of what he smells like penetrates through my sticky miasma. I don't look at him. I can't look at him.
I remove the cig from my lips, balance it between two fingers. And suddenly, I'm entranced by the red markings at the end of it.
"I didn't know you were an idiot," ouch. I know what they are; soft words that don't sting. They are relatively harmless, but still, I feel bad. I don't look at his reaction. I can't.
It's quiet. I want to take a drag, bring that fag to my lips. But I'm fearful. He's watching me.
"It's a nice sunny day, isn't it?" I sneak a peek at him; he's not looking at me. Sitting on concrete like an injian, eyes closed and face pointed towards the sun; silver locks reflecting with sugary yellow. He looks warm with that cherry red scarf tied around his neck.
Cold morning. Sitting in the sunshine. Why can't I be warm? Look away, and dig deeper into my cashmere sweater. Lifeless.
Take a drag. Breathe in all that candy cancer.
"Akihiko, care to tell me what you require?" I'm irritable. I don't want to do this right now. I'm chewing at the end of the fag, ashes falling on my cashmere sweater.
"Just wanted to check up on you," Sweet Akihiko, should really mind his own business.
Lips shaking, nicotine staining my fingers yellow.
Stuff I don't want to think about resurfaces. Father.
"I don't care. I don't care," I almost break like sugar. But I don't. I can't.
A refined young lady like myself. Shouldn't be like this.
But I am. And I can't do anything about it. I remember it now. I remember how Father used to smell.
"My Father used to smoke," I can't do anything about it. Fag stuck between my fingers is leaking sticky miasma. Staining the pretty cold sunshine with blackberry ashes.
"He used to tell me that Junes brand tasted like pure shit. But he smoked it anyways," my voice is shaky. I can hear my own weakness.
Shouldn't be like this. Not at all. Akihiko is quiet besides me. I don't want him to talk.
"Sorry. It's all… I can say," idiot spoke. I finally look at him, and he's looking at me. Amber eyes are starting to flow with saltine tears.
What are you crying for, you pussy? I curse inside my head. Young refined lady my ass.
I smile at him, though I'm not happy. And suddenly, I want to be left alone. My body craves solitude just as it craves another drag.
"Leave me be, Akihiko. I want to be left alone," Give him all my attention. Doesn't budge. Doesn't take the hint. Just sits there, with a concerned look on his face, in a posture that is much more elegant than mine at the moment. He is an idiot. I tell him so.
"You make an ideal idiot," He smiles, sunshine reflecting his features. I don't want him to smile.
Comes closer to me. Cologne overpowering. Face is close to mine.
"Only for you," wants a kiss. Wants to take advantage. I can smell it.
Can't take it anymore. I don't want him anymore.
Take my fag… and bore it into his cheek.
Hold it there for a while. He screams. His pain doesn't thrill me.
It's just there.
The fag hisses. Akihiko retracts his neck with a little scream. I drop the fag, and suddenly it's dying on the cold concrete.
"Leave me be Akihiko," I stare as he rubs his cheek sullenly. He's staring at me, not with anger, but with sadness. I stare at the wound I had inflicted. A black round scorch mark. Not perfect. Not incomplete. Will heal in the coming months.
He gets up without a word.
Step, step. A door closes behind me. I don't care. I don't care.
But I do.
I take out a Zippo and a box of Junes branded fags out from the folds inside my cashmere sweater.
"This is Father's Zippo," I tell Akihiko's shadow, "always wanted the next of kin to have it."
I stare at the Zippo; its metallic body is shining so prettily in the cold sunshine. Remove a cancer stick from the pack.
Ignite the fag. Put away Father's treasure.
Take a drag. Breathe in all that candy cancer.
Just on the stone steps, sitting so very pretty. Don't mind me.
Don't mind me
disclaimer
and
concrit greatly appreciated
