A Walk In The Park

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                             m i l l i e

"Mum, I'll be fine. Yes, I have my pepper spray. Can I go? I'll only be there for an hour tops." I answer as she continues ranting out questions through my phone.

Mums, amirite?

"You know I only ask these things because I love you, right?" She asks softly, kindly.

Nodding, I forget she can't see me as I then quickly respond with 'yes'.

"Good. Well, I love you. Be safe." I smile at her worry for me, it's all she's been concerned about ever since his death.

"Love you too. Bye." I reply before ending the call and slipping the iPhone into my pocket as
I continue down the walkway, on my way to the park on a day where grey clouds loom over the small town.

The same park he used to take me to every Sunday afternoon.

Taking in a brisk breath the strong stench of rainfall lingers in the foggy air, the scent somehow hinted with all too familiar cigarette smoke.

It was those cancer sticks that killed my father and it's them that'll kill more. And though I have a fiery hatred for the drug, the smell of it still manages to soothe me into a time where he was still here.

A time that I miss dearly, but sadly one no one can bring back. That was until I notice the culprit of the comforting scent.

A young boy by the likes of fifteen, maybe sixteen, sits lazily on the wooden bench with a fresh cigarette lit up between his fingertips.

His dark black hair curls in the humid air as his light brown jacket coated with fur on the inside and collar, matches with the tan Vans he sports on his crossed feet.

Interested in the sight, I slow my pace and occupy the empty spot on the bench about half a foot away from him.

I only watch as he inhales the cancer practically contained in the cigarette. He only finally notices me as he exhales the grey smoke into the musky air.

"Smoking's disgusting." I state as I watch him blow out the last of the disintegrating substance.

He shrugs while his dark eyes show nothing of life but sadness and disparity.

"I'll never kiss you if you smoke." I admit casually while wondering if the stranger will even respond.

It's like he's lifeless. I wouldn't be surprised if all he does is shrug.

"Who said I wanted you to kiss me?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at me with suspicion yet carelessness as he takes another drag.

Finding that he doesn't need an answer, I press my lips together before the most prominent question in my mind slips from my tongue.

"You do know you'll get cancer, right?" He looks up as if even remotely surprised I spoke again.

"Hard not to when it's the first thing you get taught in health class." He insists, putting the cigarette to his lips as he stares out at the empty park.

Cigarette Smoke // FILLIEWhere stories live. Discover now