Short Story
This is a short story i wrote a month or two ago. i wanted to post it when i wrote it but i didn't know how to use an lj cut. After exploring this site a little better (yes i'm slow), i've finally figured out how to use a cut so here is my story. read it, don't read it, comment or don't, i like it and thought i'd share it. comments and/or constructive criticism are always welcome.
Beautiful Day
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
"Is there a certain number of times you have to tap that thing?" I ask.
"Huh?" she says.
Smack!
Smack!
"The pack," I say, gesturing towards the cigarette pack in her hand.
"Oh," she replies sheepishly. "Nervous habit."
"How does this look?" I ask, pointing at a bench just off the path we are walking on, partially shaded by a large tree full of blossoms.
She glances over and nods, opens the pack, pulls out a cigarette, and places it between her lips. The pack goes into her right pocket, while she searches her left for her lighter.
"So, you were saying," I prompt.
"Huh?" she says again, preoccupied with searching her pocket. "Oh yeah," she says finally with a triumphant grin as she pulls the red lighter from her other pocket. She brings it to her cigarette, trying to remember what the heck she was talking about. Her eyes light up and she picks up the conversation once again. "So I get this phone call, right..." Her whole body is animated while she talks, lighter gesturing wildly, cigarette temporarily forgotten. "... and I’m like ‘Look buddy, stop calling my house. I don’t want any of your fucking products! You call almost every day, and every time I hang up on your ass! Take me off your god damn list!’"
She pauses to take a breath and realizes she still has that cigarette dangling from her lips. Finally, she lights it with the lighter and takes a pull, eyes half closed. The cigarette goes into her right hand, the lighter in her left, and she blows out a long stream of smoke, as I watch fascinated.
She continues her story, drawing smoke diagrams in the air with her cigarette. She takes another pull, the lighter a red blur as she makes up for her occupied hand. Again, a stream of smoke emerges from her lips and she stands in order to better emphasize her points.
I watch enraptured, not really listening, just reveling in the sound of her smooth voice, slightly husky from cigarette smoke. A gentle breeze blows the branches of the tree, stirring the blossoms and adding a faint perfume to the air. A blizzard of pink petals falls over the improvised stage where she is acting out her story. I lounge more on the bench, watching the petals play in the breeze. My lips curve in a smile as I close my eyes and inhale the scent of this glorious spring day.
She pauses in her story and chuckles. "You’re not listening are you?" She laughs, walking towards me. I open my eyes sleepily as she kisses my nose and once again sits on the bench next to me. Her thigh touches mine and her arm goes around my shoulders. I sigh contentedly and lean my head on her shoulder. "Isn’t it a beautiful day?"