July 17, 2024 - “Other than remembering”

“You know what I used to smoke?” she asks, handing your lighter back to you, studying the lit embers for a moment before bringing the cigarette to her lips, like she was deciding if it was worth doing, if doing it made her more like you than she would have liked.

“Virginia Slims?” you guess, making May laugh out a cloud. She shakes her head and looks at you like she knows something you never will.

“These,” she says, with the cigarette between her teeth, grinning wide like she has delivered a punch line. But for once you don’t think she is trying to teach you a lesson, you don’t think she is doing anything at all, really, other than remembering.