Cigarettes and Butterflies (Incomplete)

Chapter 10: Incoming Call

A gentle snow falls in tiny flakes right outside of my window. Each little collection of frozen water and dust floats quietly onto the silver metal stabilizing the frosted glass. The normally wicked wind of winter halts it's nasty whips for the morning, an almost nonexistent breeze replacing it. Every so often, I can hear the crunch of snow, another car rolling by or another foot taking steps to a set location. A small urge to be one of those passerby's beats in my chest. Yet, I remain still, simply watching the cloud ridden sky and following a snowflake every so often, observing its descent to the frigid earth.

I sigh, the warm gust of air pooling onto the glass in a matte sheen. I lift my hand and delicately draw a basic triangle shape on it. Then another below it, another on top of that one, then a few more shapes, until it's become a discernable picture.

"Is that a tree?" A gentle voice sounds from next to me, exhaustion lacing the soft-spoken tenor.

I jump only slightly at the sudden speech. "I would think so."

A hand reaches past me and gently presses its pointer finger to the tip of the tree. With sloppy technique it draws a small star, making my little tree into one fitting for the holidays. I eye the hand warily before turning my head slightly to look at its owner. A small smile and glowing brown eyes enter my field of vision.

They chuckle sadly, making an equally saddened smile turn up the corners of my lips briefly. They stretch out slightly, raising their arms as far as they can in the small confined space of their car. The bags under their eyes are dark and deathly, although I can't say mine are any better. They yawn softly after several clicks from their tired body.

"Did you get enough sleep?"

A tired sigh hisses through their teeth. "In the time span of the eight hours we've been parked here, I spent four of them tossing and turning and the other four, waking up on and off because of paranoia."

"So, I'll take that as a no then?" I deadpan, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

I am met with silence.

I watch while they bring their hand to the side of their seat and adjust it accordingly, several small curses and mistakes later they're situated. Reaching for the key already in the ignition, they turn it to the third slot and the car roars to life with singsong beeping and a flood of heat. I reach around and grab onto my seatbelt, sliding it out and across my chest, then click it into place. Looking back, I notice their gaze is now pointed out of their window, eyes locked onto a store with strings of multicolored Christmas lights. The twinkle of tinsel decorates the inside of the store window and a small plastic Santa sits just outside the automatic door.

With longing in their eyes, they speak forlornly. "Did you want to celebrate?"

"Not particularly." I run a hand through my tangled mess of hair. "I haven't celebrated for the past few years; this year isn't any different."

"Ah, I just thought-" Their statement falls flat.

"Just thought what?" I prod them gently.

Placing their hand on the gear shift, they place the silver Honda into reverse. "I just thought maybe, we could do something a little festive. I don't really care what, just something." Carefully, they pull out of the parking space. "I just want something normal to do. I'm tired of being afraid. Of running. Of having nowhere to go. I'm just tired of all of it!"

The emotion sounds heavy in their voice and they quickly realize it. "Sorry, I...I just, I think everything is getting to me. I'm used to celebrating every year."