Make it all right
She bent over and lit her Marlboro off the stove, inhaling a drag before the image of her mother came to mind. "Memories of home," she thought watching the ash glow red before she set the cylinder against the lip of the saucer she'd been using for an ashtray. The cigarette burned down against the ceramic dish scorching an amber ring into the plate that would never come clean.
"It's funny the things we remember," she said to him as if talking to herself. He knew she wasn't really speaking to him, but old ghosts that dogged her memories and her mind. "Like the smell of a Marlboro lit off the burner of a stove, yeah?"
She picked up the cigarette, twirling it around between her thumb and forefinger, taking another drag before she set it back in its place. "I remember... heat-lightning, and being afraid of the dark. I remember hiding at the side of my parent's bed as a little girl, praying I wouldn't be found. I remember the heat and the humidity and the way it clung to everything, the way I felt like I could never breathe."
His ice-blue eyes drank her in from messy mascara to undone jeans. He loved her even more when she was disheveled. He was a sucker for a hard case and it came as no surprise to his friends when he fell so deliriously hard.
"Come on," he said in his quiet way, stretching out his hand to take hers, reaching over between them to snuff out the last few drags of her cigarette. In the bedroom down the solitary hallway, he turned her in his arms and held her chin in the palm of his hand. "You can breathe with me. You never have to be afraid again. Most nights I never close my eyes. I watch you sleep and keep you safe and you're never even aware."
"How wrong you are," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss his lips, leaving the faint hint of tobacco in her wake. The darkness shrouded the glistening tears in her eyes, the narrow black lines of her eyeliner trailing down her cheeks, but somehow that made it all right. Him in the darkness made everything all right.
"It's funny the things we remember," she said to him as if talking to herself. He knew she wasn't really speaking to him, but old ghosts that dogged her memories and her mind. "Like the smell of a Marlboro lit off the burner of a stove, yeah?"
She picked up the cigarette, twirling it around between her thumb and forefinger, taking another drag before she set it back in its place. "I remember... heat-lightning, and being afraid of the dark. I remember hiding at the side of my parent's bed as a little girl, praying I wouldn't be found. I remember the heat and the humidity and the way it clung to everything, the way I felt like I could never breathe."
His ice-blue eyes drank her in from messy mascara to undone jeans. He loved her even more when she was disheveled. He was a sucker for a hard case and it came as no surprise to his friends when he fell so deliriously hard.
"Come on," he said in his quiet way, stretching out his hand to take hers, reaching over between them to snuff out the last few drags of her cigarette. In the bedroom down the solitary hallway, he turned her in his arms and held her chin in the palm of his hand. "You can breathe with me. You never have to be afraid again. Most nights I never close my eyes. I watch you sleep and keep you safe and you're never even aware."
"How wrong you are," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss his lips, leaving the faint hint of tobacco in her wake. The darkness shrouded the glistening tears in her eyes, the narrow black lines of her eyeliner trailing down her cheeks, but somehow that made it all right. Him in the darkness made everything all right.