She
ignored the lift, opting for the stairs instead. She climbed each step
dejectedly; hands buried deep in the pockets of the plush terry robe that she
wore over her pajamas, her head hung low. Her head was throbbing with a
piercing headache that was inclining her eyes to close; dark tresses that had
escaped the bun atop her head hung loosely around her face. She didn’t know if
she encountered anyone while she was trudging up the four floors, if she did
she didn’t bother returning their kind nods and pleasant greetings. She didn’t
know how to feel, there was the fear gnawing at the pit of her stomach making
her want to cry but tears wouldn’t come. Maybe because she had buried them deep
inside, and she was wounded somewhere inside too, seething at the lost of her
own spirits.
She
entered her apartment and sighed, she really did want her tears to come out.
She tucked the annoying strands uselessly back in the bun only to have them
fall across her face a minute later. She sighed again, aloud and pulled open
her desk drawer. She pulled out a cigarette, it was built differently than the
regular ones; rolled much longer and thinner she found them somewhat elegant.
In fact she had reserved it for a right time and this was it, she needed it. She
opened the curtains and stood by the window letting the sunshine color the
darkened room, as she lighted her cigarette. She held her hand protectively in
front of the match as she lit it, remembering how when her friend had first
lighted her a cigarette the stingy smoke wafting from it had made her cringe
but now it didn’t affect her, she breathed it in.
She
looked out at the sun, unblinkingly, as her eyes strained from the strong light.
She took a swig of her cigarette and blew away white smoke, it wafted up
forming patterns that drifted apart and disappeared in the white ceiling. Much like her dreams. As an early smoker
she had smoked less and engaged herself much more by making random patterns in
the air with the wisps of smoke escaping from the cigarette. Now she watched as
the thin blue tinted stream of white smoke evading from her cigarette filled
the room.
Her
headache that had reduced to a numb at the back of her head fired up again. She
winced stubbing out her cigarette at the window sill, forming a black ring
among more similar ones. She was agitated. It felt as if her gut and lungs were
blocked, the smoky room made her want to gag, she needed air. She threw open
the window. This was not what she was supposed to be, what she wanted to
become. Why was life playing this horrible game with her?? She rummaged in her
open desk drawer and found her cigarettes, throwing the whole pack outside. This was not what she had planned to be, not
her future. This was nothing expect a monster eating her inside. Something
welled up deep inside as she was suddenly at a loss of energy. She sat on the
bed as tears pricked her eyes. She was not this. She brought her knees to her
chest wrapping her arms around them she closed her eyes and rocked back and
forth trying to calm herself. She wanted change, not soon but now. She sighed
again letting her tears brim over. And as the war breeze wafted in she soon
lost her wrecked self to sleep.
-Momina.
