I was an idiot to go back for my cigarettes. I could just ask for new ones.
But no cigarettes were equal to those. They were mine and she took them. Well, I left them but it was her fault. If she had just planned well enough I wouldn't be here. I'd be at home, with her, or with someone else who would make me happy. Smoking cigarettes in my living room while she cooked. Or did the dishes. Or did something extremely domestic.
But there I was, standing on her door step.
The sound of running water filled my ears- maybe she was doing the dishes or taking a shower.
But she did not answer the door.
It was a man. I remember laughing at him because he was bald in his twenties but I didn't say anything because sometimes life is unfair.
I think somehow he knew who I was.
Why I was there. Because he called out for her.
She wiped her hands on her skirt- she was doing the dishes- as she came to the door.
She asked if I wanted to come in. I reclined.
How the hell was I supposed to just walk into her house like I belonged there, like we hadn't lost touch, like we'd still known each other like the backs of our hands when I didn't?
We both knew it.
I just stayed were I was.
The sun lit only some parts of her face, and I thought 'maybe I'm just imagining this and I'm too lazy or too hurt to imagine the rest of her face'.
"Why are you here?" she'd asked.
"You took something that belongs to me. And I should've gotten it back a long time ago."
"What is that?" As if she didn't already know.
As if I couldn't walk in there and find them.
"You know," I said. Or maybe I thought it. She didn't say anything, so I couldn't tell.
"No I don't."
"You left me! You left and you didn't even bother to come back, and I waited for hours! And when I came back they were gone and I know you took them! Don't pretend like nothing happened because you broke me!" All of the sudden I was yelling, and I remember her face never even flinched.
"Better you than me," she said.
Better you than me.
Maybe at some point she was right.
I was fucked up about it and she moved on.
But not at that second.
I knew exactly what I wanted.
And I was sure as hell going to get it.
"I want them back."
I did. I needed to know they were kept safe.
"I- I can't." She closed her eyes and I realized that this was not my imagination, this was real. I was really at her door.
"Yes, you can give them back. They weren't even yours in the first place. I bought them. And now you're going to give them back to me!"
"I don't have them anymore."
It seemed fitting. She had used them up until there was nothing but ash left.
But the cigarette butt was still there and I was going to rebuild the cigarettes if I had to.
