closed
August 12th, 2011, 05:41 AM
A story dedicated to a person I met on V.T. last year.
Smoke and Sweat
I think I see him in the mist in that alley across the street. Yes, the shade really looks like his. Damn, again he is walking in those types of places. You see, cinema hasn’t invented the dark, foggy, alleys. There are places like this, where you can’t see almost anything, where the mist mixes with the smoke and steams of sweat. Places that are never visited by police, or sane people. Places that look like the hell you will find yourself at while cruising in a nightmare. We, and mostly he, went through hell, pulling him out of this kind of life , and he swore, he swore, that he will never return to it. I know I can count on him, and that if he promises to do something he will do it. But the simplest thing, stay alive, live his life, and not give in to those temptations, was also the hardest thing for him. We haven’t talked for over a year, after the time he broke his promise, and touched the stuff one more time. Since then he tried to prove to me that he will never repeat it, but I was betrayed, and couldn't forget that. You probably think I’m the devil, or maybe that it’s only my fault that he started doing that. I have no counter arguments - maybe it’s really my fault. You can blame me, and yet, you don’t know how it feels like when you leave your best friend. And you can’t imagine what I feel, now that I see his shade in that alley. But wait, maybe it’s not him. I don’t know what should I do, and probably, the best thing for me, would be to walk to the other direction, forget about it. The curiosity, or something else, pushes me to get closer to that alley. Through the poisonous fog I can see more clearly. There is almost a line of junkies near the wall. The place stinks with smoke and sweat, and I can hardly breathe, even though I stand only at the entrance of that alley. Somewhere in the middle of the line, made of high, dumb faces, I see a face glare at me, trying to recognize me. In one moment, his eyes brighten up, and his lips twitch to call my name. But I’m already not there. Walking away as fast as I can, red tears painting my face with shame. And I run away.
Smoke and Sweat
I think I see him in the mist in that alley across the street. Yes, the shade really looks like his. Damn, again he is walking in those types of places. You see, cinema hasn’t invented the dark, foggy, alleys. There are places like this, where you can’t see almost anything, where the mist mixes with the smoke and steams of sweat. Places that are never visited by police, or sane people. Places that look like the hell you will find yourself at while cruising in a nightmare. We, and mostly he, went through hell, pulling him out of this kind of life , and he swore, he swore, that he will never return to it. I know I can count on him, and that if he promises to do something he will do it. But the simplest thing, stay alive, live his life, and not give in to those temptations, was also the hardest thing for him. We haven’t talked for over a year, after the time he broke his promise, and touched the stuff one more time. Since then he tried to prove to me that he will never repeat it, but I was betrayed, and couldn't forget that. You probably think I’m the devil, or maybe that it’s only my fault that he started doing that. I have no counter arguments - maybe it’s really my fault. You can blame me, and yet, you don’t know how it feels like when you leave your best friend. And you can’t imagine what I feel, now that I see his shade in that alley. But wait, maybe it’s not him. I don’t know what should I do, and probably, the best thing for me, would be to walk to the other direction, forget about it. The curiosity, or something else, pushes me to get closer to that alley. Through the poisonous fog I can see more clearly. There is almost a line of junkies near the wall. The place stinks with smoke and sweat, and I can hardly breathe, even though I stand only at the entrance of that alley. Somewhere in the middle of the line, made of high, dumb faces, I see a face glare at me, trying to recognize me. In one moment, his eyes brighten up, and his lips twitch to call my name. But I’m already not there. Walking away as fast as I can, red tears painting my face with shame. And I run away.