The Day That Never Came

My hand wobbled as I took a long drag of the cigarette. I leaned back and pressed myself into your chest, shutting my eyes contentedly. You took the light out of my loosely held, clammy hand.

“Easy, now,” you murmured. “You’ll make yourself nauseous again.”

“Mmm,” I replied absentmindedly.

With my eyes shut, the world felt like it was spinning and I was its axis, so I opened them and stared at the unearthly orange-purple polluted sky, slowly exhaling almost-smoke rings.

As I lifted my hand up to take another drag, I suddenly noticed it was empty.

“wha- hey, over already?! I want more! Gimme!” I said, albeit in a whiny voice.

You chuckled.

And again, that enticing murmur. 

“Pace yourself, love. One at a time.”

Your voice rumbled in your chest and you spoke. God, how I used to love that low rumble.

I turned to press my ear against your chest.

“Say something.”

“something.”

I could almost hear the slight grin in your voice.

“Well, aren’t you the comedian,” I replied sarcastically.

“Heard it’s quite the chick magnet,” You lazily drawled.

“And they flocked to you by the millions, don’t they?” I retorted.

You leaned down and kissed my neck softly. “Ah well, y’see, this particular one that came hither- so to speak- scared off all the others.” You kissed your way up my neck and playfully bit my ear.

I grinned and put my arms behind me to encircle your neck. “I came, I saw, I conquered!”