RAMONThe night air was cool, crisp, and quiet. The kind of quiet that never lasted long in our world. I stood on the back porch, one hand buried in my jacket pocket, the other holding a cigarette. I hated the habit, but tonight, I needed something to ground me. The taste of ash, the curl of smoke, it dulled the edge of everything just enough.Stephen stood beside me, leaning on the railing, his eyes fixed on the sky like it had answers. He didn’t say much, but that was fine. Some nights didn’t need words.“You smoke?” I asked, glancing sideways.He gave me a small nod, slow and thoughtful. “Sometimes. When things get heavy.”“Tonight qualifies.”“Yeah,” he muttered.I pulled a cigarette from the box and handed it to him. He took it. I flicked the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind, and lit his.We stood there, not talking for a minute or two. Just breathing. Smoking. Thinking.“Hell of a day,” I finally said.He exhaled. “You could say that.”I took another drag and looked ou
Last Updated : 2025-07-11 Read more