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You didn’t see him at first. Couldn’t be blamed, given the darkness. Instead, you tried to light up your cigarette time and time again, your lighter never producing a flame strong enough to burn the tip. Sighing, you resigned yourself and turned to go back inside, and just then you noticed him, sitting in the shadows.
“Good evening,” you said, voice high, one hand raising to accompany the greeting. He would have nodded, but then realised you couldn’t see him, so he decided to use his voice. Sparingly.
“Evenin’”. You were squinting now, trying to– look at him in the face? He drew away from the light emanating from the cigarette. You must have caught the drift of his action, because you pushed away from the railing and looked down for a second. You were hard to dissuade nowadays as ever, though.
“Sorry to bother you,” you spoke again after a while, “could I use your lighter for a moment? Mine’s dead.”
Back in highschool, Simon Riley was the first person to not make you feel like an outcast.
Twenty years later, you move next to one massive dude after your divorce.Bookmarked by 69slxt420
02 Jul 2025