I looked over to the benches, expecting to see him sitting there with his legs crossed, constantly pushing the hair out of his face. He moved the hair from where it had fallen over his eyes and looked at me. “You have to get it into your lungs.” I turned away from the benches and kept walking across campus. But the autumn air was still around me. I don’t know why, but the feeling around nighttime always made the season unmistakable. I looked over to where leaves had stuck through blades of the rough, dying grass.
Sitting in the grass, we both had cigarettes in our hands, even though I did not smoke. When I breathed in deeper and held my breath for a few seconds, I exhaled with a cough. Your face was spinning when you laughed again and I felt dizzy. The unexpected taste and smell that was trapped in my throat was overwhelming and I coughed some more.
I had once hated the smell of cigarette smoke, but now I found I did not mind being around it. As I moved between the benches and the sidewalk, the smoke that still mixed in the air began to settle. I moved more slowly, just to breathe in the remnants. I may come to hate it again one day. I always said how I hardly know myself. You said something to me, and whether I couldn’t or wouldn’t say it back, I did not know. I just kept taking drags from that cigarette and watched you for a reaction.
I suddenly realized that the puffs of white that had clouded around my vision had begun to dissipate. Now that I thought about it, I had hardly even noticed when I walked past those benches and the smoldering air blew across my face.
The smoke from your cigarette seemed stale as it blew across our faces and I thought about how the bitter taste not only seemed dead, but of something that was never alive. When I got to my class, I tried to shake the smell of cigarette smoke off, but I knew for the rest of the night that smell would linger. It had already settled into my clothes and become part of me.
