Would you like to smoke a cigarette?
Joseph balked before asking; it wasn't exactly a turn on, he thought, were she to say no - so many found the habit repulsive these days, while he romanced every little puff.
Sure.
He breathed a sigh of relief, for both the simple fact she didn't find it repulsive, and that he was getting nervous. She held a glass of the wine he had brought over, and he remembered those days when he would be carrying one, too (or probably the bottle), taking the nervousness away; he would have smoked regardless of her feelings about it.
It had been a long day, his last. He and _____ had really just met, but this city was so small, incestuously small to a degree, the chances that they had brushed elbows at some point were extremely high. They had slept in, not by design, only due to the fact that they had stayed up talking until they realized it was almost 4am, and woke up too late to get her kids off to school. Maybe it was the fact that it was the end; maybe it was that she was new, beautiful and enthralling, but he was restless despite that late hour and could barely muster the courage to touch her hand as they lay in bed. He woke up and kissed her almost immediately, knowing that it would end there, as the kids had already been up (and in the room, he was sure the door was shut).
This ought to be interesting.
The last day was anything but interesting, on the contrary. It was actually eerily normal, the way that he continued to glide into the lives of others to the end. Even spending time with _____'s children, to whom he woke up a stranger, went surprisingly well, and towards the end of the day, her daughter slept in his arms as Joseph carried her home from the park while telling her son tales about climbing volcanoes, making a promise that he would bring him one day if he didn't make it on his own.
Now, it was just the two of them, on the porch, dimly but colorfully lit by small plastic lanterns. He took a drag on his cigarette; should he tell her that today might be the last day he ever draws a breath? Is that fair? Even he didn't know the outcome, and opted for silence in that matter. He could tell, too, that she had a lot on her mind. For a mother to introduce her children to someone sporadically like that, he could only imagine what she was thinking watching them get on so well. There was also but a thin veil disguising the years of mistrust accumulated in relationships gone sour, three hearts broken at a time. Before saying anything that might spoil the rest of the day, he stood up.
I've had a wonderful day.
He leaned down, kissed her forehead, and before she could say anything, gently placed his index finger on her lips.
I'm not going to say anything else, either. Please, let's just leave it at this.
She nodded, perplexity of the abruptness of his words melting away as they made eye contact.
God she's beautiful, he thought. The children raced through his mind as he walked out the door and down the stairs. Opening his car door, he looked back up...the trees hid her face; all he could see were those colorful lanterns. He sat for a moment, wondering no more of what tomorrow would bring. As he drove off, the ghosts that weakened his body, his heart, hovered, dumbfounded at the days events. On these pages they were identified, and thus they would now remain.