progress with writing is not as bad
“Do you know how trees die?” he asked her, right before taking another drag from his cigarette. A passing car blew the smoke in her face. She winced and waved them away.
“No. How?”
Junpei tapped the end of his cigarette, sending the ashes falling on the table. I watched as the wind scattered the little gray specks everywhere atop the painted wood. All the while, I began to wonder what Rinko must think of him.
“Well,” he started to say. “You don’t shoot trees or throw knives at them, the way you would do to a human. They don’t die from that because they’re huge, sturdy things. Nothing happens when you’re far from them. To let a tree die, and to let it die slowly, you go to it, and that’s when you start pulling away bits of its bark off, one by one. You de-bark it. A naked tree will kick the bucket, eventually - far sooner than one with clothes on. That’s how trees die.”
Rinko’s face was expressionless, but not completely blank. I looked away and turned to Junpei. He took another long drag and blew the smoke out of his mouth in Os. Soon after, he noticed me looking and held out his pack of Marlboros, with both his eyebrows raised. I shook my head. He shrugged and stuffed it back in his pocket. I would have accepted, had I been in the mood.
“Anyway,” Junpei said, turning back to face Rinko, once again leaving me out of the conversation. “You deal with people the same way you deal with trees. Truly destroying a person takes time, and it’s very close-range. You strip them, you know; not like sex, but that’s also possible and acceptable. You get what I mean.”
Rinko nodded. I noticed how intensely she was staring at him. There was obvious tension, so I kept quiet in my seat. I didn’t like being a mediator in situations like these, where there were two very different forces, quite possibly opposing each other, but I always ended up being one anyway. I racked my brains for something humorous and simple, something to lighten the mood up a little, but before I could even open my mouth, Rinko had already made the next move.
“Hand me one of those,” she said, holding her hand out. She snapped her thumb and forefinger.
Junpei pointed to the stick in his mouth, a questioning look playing on his soft, feminine features. Rinko nodded. I blinked, partly in disbelief and partly in awe.
Junpei took a smooth, white stick from his pack and placed it on Rinko’s outstretched hand, along with his verdant lighter. I watched mutely as Rinko held the stick between her teeth and lit it up with a flick of Junpei’s lighter. “Tastes pretty bad, just so you know,” Junpei warned, right after blowing out a particularly large plume of cigarette smoke.
“I don’t care.”
Rinko took a clumsy drag from her cigarette. I saw her face scrunch up ever so slightly for about a second; too short a time for Junpei, who was distracting himself with his own cigarette, to notice, but long enough for me, someone who’s dated Rinko for two years and a half, to catch. Her inexperience was so obvious to me that it hurt a little.
“No. How?”
Junpei tapped the end of his cigarette, sending the ashes falling on the table. I watched as the wind scattered the little gray specks everywhere atop the painted wood. All the while, I began to wonder what Rinko must think of him.
“Well,” he started to say. “You don’t shoot trees or throw knives at them, the way you would do to a human. They don’t die from that because they’re huge, sturdy things. Nothing happens when you’re far from them. To let a tree die, and to let it die slowly, you go to it, and that’s when you start pulling away bits of its bark off, one by one. You de-bark it. A naked tree will kick the bucket, eventually - far sooner than one with clothes on. That’s how trees die.”
Rinko’s face was expressionless, but not completely blank. I looked away and turned to Junpei. He took another long drag and blew the smoke out of his mouth in Os. Soon after, he noticed me looking and held out his pack of Marlboros, with both his eyebrows raised. I shook my head. He shrugged and stuffed it back in his pocket. I would have accepted, had I been in the mood.
“Anyway,” Junpei said, turning back to face Rinko, once again leaving me out of the conversation. “You deal with people the same way you deal with trees. Truly destroying a person takes time, and it’s very close-range. You strip them, you know; not like sex, but that’s also possible and acceptable. You get what I mean.”
Rinko nodded. I noticed how intensely she was staring at him. There was obvious tension, so I kept quiet in my seat. I didn’t like being a mediator in situations like these, where there were two very different forces, quite possibly opposing each other, but I always ended up being one anyway. I racked my brains for something humorous and simple, something to lighten the mood up a little, but before I could even open my mouth, Rinko had already made the next move.
“Hand me one of those,” she said, holding her hand out. She snapped her thumb and forefinger.
Junpei pointed to the stick in his mouth, a questioning look playing on his soft, feminine features. Rinko nodded. I blinked, partly in disbelief and partly in awe.
Junpei took a smooth, white stick from his pack and placed it on Rinko’s outstretched hand, along with his verdant lighter. I watched mutely as Rinko held the stick between her teeth and lit it up with a flick of Junpei’s lighter. “Tastes pretty bad, just so you know,” Junpei warned, right after blowing out a particularly large plume of cigarette smoke.
“I don’t care.”
Rinko took a clumsy drag from her cigarette. I saw her face scrunch up ever so slightly for about a second; too short a time for Junpei, who was distracting himself with his own cigarette, to notice, but long enough for me, someone who’s dated Rinko for two years and a half, to catch. Her inexperience was so obvious to me that it hurt a little.