On Life and cat

Ch 3. Cigarettes and Claws

My hands were shaking as I tried lighting my fourth cigarette. Hard enough with mittens on, every damn second I was sure they would catch fire and burn out every last one of them -and me with it. I couldn't have chosen a worse day to run out. 

'Fuck.'

The street had grown dark grey since I entered Fink's, and no umbrella had been left untouched. Their dark alleys made it seem as though night had fallen early. A lamppost at my right had already been lit, and stood out like a gloomy sun under the sky. Next to it was a tall ladder. I passed by just as a man in black lamplighter uniform climbed down from it.

'Strange weather ain't it?' Why? Why did they always want to speak with me? Did I have that kind of face people always wanted to bother? 

'Reminds me of them old days, the rain couldn't pick a damn side' Right.

'It was a bad omen, the weather like this, yah know' If he could just stop. Any time now. 

'-a bringer of death' Is that so? 

I was almost jumping up and down to keep warm, eager to get on. Then I noticed something. 

'If you would be so kind?' I suddenly ask him. 

'Huh? Oh yeah, sure sweetheart.' he says, takes a moment to climb down again, and then pulls out a huge silvery lighter. Seconds alter I get to blow in the sweet, wonderful smell I'd been craving for so long. Exhaling as slowly as possible. 

'So what are you up to today misses- ?' 

'Ann' I say. 

'Misses Ann' He mumbles under his beard. His voice sounded deep and husky, but drifted off at the sound of my name. Did he remember me? 

'Out to watch the fish float in?' He shouts over the wind and a wide smile spread across his face. I pull my hands together. The mittens had started to itch like crazy. 

'I couldn't say' 

'Hm, yeah. I guess it's not a suitable hobby for everyone. Well, lamps got to get fixed no matter what weather. How about you, boy?' he then says, 'Want a light too? They get too young these days, I tell ya. Not even lettin' go of their mum's tit before they try to end their lives. And if it ain't those damn mopeds-' 

'Sorry, I'm not following.'

'You know -those retched gangs of teenagers with too much time on their hands and too little to do? They were all the way up in Middlesbrough last week. You haven't seen them?'

'What boy?' 

'Well, this young man of course! He isn't with you?' 

I turn around. A few feet behind me stands a curious young man indeed. A freckled, ruddy face, with a sixpence pushed firmly down over his head. He didn't say anything, but it appears the Lamplighter has had enough anyhow. 

He was one of them. The source of every rumour in town. The old ladies henchmen and forever spies. Born to create trouble and lived to uphold them. 

'Go! Get outta' here, son! Don't want you bothering the lady.'  

The lamplighter lifted his ladder and readied for the next lamppost. 

My hands started to shake. On my way, every step I had taken, it felt like they were going to boil alive. So I finally gave in, tore my mittens off, and horror struck my heart. They had grown. I had known this, somehow, but I couldn't be sure until I actually saw it. Wider and longer than any nails I'd ever seen before. This wasn't unusual. This was abnormal.