Dust to Dust
I was looking out the window one quiet night when I saw a girl in the window next to me, staring outside just as I was. She had short, light brown hair and a cold pale face. I on the window ledge, her sitting on the floor, she stared past me as I continued to inspect her. Frail fingers and elegant nails brought a skinny cigarette to her lips. My face contorted watching her, she couldn't be more than 17 years old. Nevertheless, she took a drag and let out an exhausted stream of smoke with her face still expressionless. She leaned farther out the window and I caught a glimpse of her robe. Fuzzy and pink, it contrasted with her silvery complexion. When she released the cigarette from her lips I was met with a gleam from porcelain teeth.
"Aren't you a little young for that?"
I asked, more forcefully than I intended to.
She kept her uncaring gaze and ashed into the wind.
She continued this waltz, bringing the tube to her lips, inhaling, and cautiously placing it back in her twig fingers to exhale. My face changed again, slightly startled that she wouldn't answer me when I was only a foot away from her.
She suddenly turned to me and exhaled again. Her face disappeared behind a cloak of smoke before she reappeared, lightly smirking at me.
"Maybe" she answered.
A blush rose to the tip of my cheeks. She retreated from the window's ledge, but before I could tell her to come back she was already there, holding out a cigarette to me.
I took it and waited for further instruction.
She just looked again and said
"I'll see you tomorrow"
(this is one of the stories from a book I am currently writing, hopefully the full collection of stories and poems will be published by the end of the school year.)