Before that night I had sworn against cigarettes, now I can’t
even tell you how many I’ve smoked. It all seemed too perfect
in that moment: Two anonymous girls. One dazzling night
sky. If only we’d been sitting on a roof. It would’ve been the
perfect cliché. One of those moments from the movies. But
that’s not what it felt like. It felt like walking through a prairie.
Surrounded by beauty. But not the beauty that a movie
captures. Not in-your-face, like a field of poppies. An
overshadowed beauty. Like the silent sob of an animal just
before it’s slaughtered. With a sort of silence encompassing
our frail bodies. Like when you watch a balloon drift higher
until it disappears. Everything was muffled. The sturdy steps
of clarity and logic disappeared. The more we talked, the
darker it became. Not just the sky. Our thoughts too. She
was a mystique. Her mind, an atlas of delirium and
disturbances. Just like mine. She always liked to wander.
Maybe that’s where I learned it. I learned a lot from her. After
all: before that night I had sworn against cigarettes, now I can’t
even tell you how many I’ve smoked.