Oneshots

chinatown

the boy reaches for the girl's hand every chance he gets.

he knows it'll be there, hanging limply by her side.  it always is.  she's always waiting for her to take it in his.  always waiting to feel his knuckles between hers.  she squeezes, just to make sure he's still there.

ow the boy says but he's smiling.

she apologizes with a laugh.  my feet hurt she says sorry.

no you're not the boy says.

no i'm not.

they both laugh.  this is all there is to it.

he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it.  try this he says and offers the end to her.  it's like a kick to the face.  there's nothing with more nicotine.

are you sure i should the girl asks.  before he can answer, she takes the cigarette anyway.  the smoke hits her brain before she can even feel it in her lungs.  wow she says.

i know.  the boy smiles.  i'm going to get a beer.

okay.  she hands him back his smoke.  he leaves it half finished on the concrete beside her. 

be right back he tells her and kisses her cheek.

okay she says again.

the girl waits outside in the cold san francisco air.  she leans against a car and watches the people who pass by.  a couple walks through her field of vision.  they're not holding hands but they're holding eyes instead.  she can see the warmth between them.  they're happy.  they have a nice warm bed to go home to.  they have love and that's all they need.

for a minute she lets herself be lost in their relationship.  the girl smiles.  she can picture the messy room, stacks of her manuscripts and his boxers across the back of the couch.  they're laying side by side, something black and white on the tv.  something iconic.  it's a wonderful life, maybe.  she lets herself picture christmas lights and then wipes them from her fantasy.  too cliche she thinks focus on the reality of everything.

the boy exits the store.  he clutches a brown paper bag with pride.  they didn't even card me he tells the girl.  are you ready to go?

she takes a drag on her cigarette and then lets it fizzle out on the ground.  her hand reaches for his.  yes she says.

they cross the street.  he's taking sips from his paper bag and she's smiling at everyone who passes.  right now this is all mine she thinks.  nobody can take this from me. 

there's no smoking the boy says and points to the sign.

good thing i'm done with my cigarette the girl replies. 

it's a park he says.

i can see that.  they climb the stairs side by side.  she can smell the beer from his can and reaches for it.  i want a sip she tells him.

he hands her the can.  it tastes like carbonated piss but she can feel it warm her throat the entire way down.  she knows this is why people drink.  it's about warmth.  in the cold city night, the warmth is everything.

as they climb the stairs, more of the park comes into view.  there's a homeless man, staking his claim behind the stone fortress.  at sunrise the cold stone belongs to those who can still find castles in the dirtiest of places.  at night it is his kingdom.  they pass silently without disturbing him.  they continue past a group of asian men, hunched over a board.  they're all throwing cards down into a pile like they're trying to break through the wood.  she turns to him.  would you speak chinese if you could she asks.