Jack sat on the windowsill of the window he’d used to climb into her living room all those months ago. He was spacing out, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers, his arm propped on his knee. This was the longest he’d ever been in one place. He was always following the winds from place to place but he’d settled in here. Just the other day he realized that he had too much stuff to take with him if he actually did decide to leave. His once moderately filled duffel bag would be stuffed to the brim if he put all of his belongings into it.
Slowly, he raised the cigarette to his lips and breathed in, letting the smoke fill his lungs and deposit the nicotine he so desperately craved. Jack was careful to blow the smoke out of the window. Anna didn’t like it when he smoked in the house but rebel that he was he did it anyways.
Jack was a bit uncomfortable with how comfortable he was becoming in this apartment. Everything seemed too good to be true and he spent half of his time waiting for the other shoe to drop.
One last drag on the cigarette and he was done, tapping the ember out into his ashtray as he blew the smoke out of the window. He didn’t get up and close the window just yet, only continued to sit there, ashtray in his hand.
Maybe it was almost time to move on.
