Smokey full moon

Once there was a girl named Jessica, who sat in wait for a sign. It was a full moon. The night was still but for the drone of voices filling the small cracks in between the silence. Lost in thought, and wandering through cold and barren streets, my path crossed her’s. She opened a box of cigarettes and she pulled one out as I neared.

“Hi.” said I with a smile.

“Hello,” she said with a bright beam.

“May I borrow your lighter?” I asked.

“Yes, you may indeed!” said she. She foraged in her handbag for a second and pulled out a green lighter. There was nothing special about the lighter. It was green. It was a lighter. I reached out for it and she gently placed it in my hand. I felt her hand. It was soft. I looked up from behind the cigarette projecting out from under my nose and I saw for the first time how truly beautiful she was.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Are you studying tonight,” she asked. I imagine that’s what she had asked. I cannot recall. I was trapped by her smile. It was an average smile. I had seen it before. It had no special contours to it; no unique pattern on her pale, pink lips. No remarkably memorable quality but one: it was sincere. I smiled back.

“Yes. I am.” I said. I dug deep into my cache of quick one-liners, hoping to find one that would work in that particular instance - but I need not have done so. She spoke on. I listened intently, although I fear I shall never recall the words she uttered. Time and Memory are fickle companions.

I know I offered her my words. She read in silence. She ooed and aah-ed at the right moments. I felt content.

“You’re really good,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“What’s your name?” she asked me.

I told her. She smiled and echoed it. She remembered mine, and I remember her’s. I stood up and we parted ways. As I walked off I smiled. I had no idea who she was, or whether or not I would see her again. But she had inspired a sense of bliss in me I wished to share. And so I wrote these words so your eyes may see them. As I tell this story, I hope your ears hear it. This is the story of the time I met Jessica. The epic tale of the time I remembered where it had all began. At the very beginning.

Once, at the very beginning, there was … And from then there became. And then I met Jessica, and then it was remembered. I told her who I was. And I walked away. Because that is who I am.

End.