A sunset on the sand, loud waves ringing in my ears. Unpleasant memories they bring, washed away by a solidary cigarette shared between friends. Hadruff releases a puff of smoke and passes the joint, his eyes fixed on the sun. I take it with gusto, a joyful drag. The memories are less pronounced, a shared pain. A beautiful end to a lousy day.
I think on them for a bit. Rushed waters on the way to sea. The feeling of dispersal, losing yourself, even as you become something more. Part of me misses it, that blissful ignorance of a river. I shudder and pull again, sweet poison in my breath. The memories remain, blunted. I pass the joint.
Hadruff inhales, trying most likely to forget the day. Being a surgeon, the memories, it must kill him inside, as slowly as the cigarette. He's too good though, and so's the money. All he ever wanted, poisoned. A blessed curse.
We say nothing, trying to dash the pain. The wonder is a pale comparison, helped by the smoke. It blunts the memories, enhances the wonder of that place. The joint is depleted, a wizened from what it was. Hadruff scrapes it in the sand, before rising. His stretched arms help him up, before coming to me. I accept.
The company is... nice. It brings back lost things, a half-remembered joy. The waves sorrowfully sing as we depart. I resist. Hadruff helps me remember Johana, sometimes. It's a nice feeling. A friend indeed
