Climbing Silver

By Stu

Marissa stands there, slouching against the metal framed door. Nonchalantly, she raises her hand to her face, and inhales the silver waft of smoke, letting it slither into her lungs, before exhaling it once again. Silver smoke ebbing and flowing between the gaps in her teeth. I sit there, on the cold hard cement steps of the apartment complex, leaning my back against the cool black railing. Its metal figure pressing against my warm shoulders and the frosty metal bites through my shirt, surely leaving bright red indentations all across my figure. We sit there in silence as I gaze off into the golden landscape of leaves and tar that makes up the cramped parking lot; she continues to slouch, sucking in the hissing curls of decay. She inhales once again, and the cigarette flares up, a beacon in the coming twilight, and the silver waves come pouring out once again; a never ending process similar to that of the oceans tides. The light fades once again.
A delicate crackling jumps into my ears as I turn to see a Dunkin Donuts bag dancing and twirling across the pitch black pavement. Its movements so elegant and unique. It does not have a care in the world, solely to dance to its hearts content and express itself. So beautifully it rises in the chilling breeze and finds its way into the clutches of a lush green hedge. Cradled in the dark clutches of the hedge, it finds its peace, like a child nestled in the arms of its mother. The breeze dies down and stillness returns to the lot, and I lean back against the cool dark railing once again.
Her fingers separate, like aged glue finally succumbing to the never ending will of time, and the fragment of tobacco begins its final decent towards to cement steps. A muffled thump echoes in the silence, and a rasping hiss emerges as the cigarette takes its final gasp of breath before her sandal-clad foot meets it head to head and all life is extinguished; just like the countless lives the cigarette has taken years and years before. A momentary victory has been won between the cancer stick and the woman standing triumphant above its smitten body. The victory is short lived however, as her manicured figures slide their way into the frayed pocket of her pink hoodie. Out of the shadows, a new one emerges; ready to take the place of its fallen brethren. Turning once again in the direction of the black lot another breeze rises up, and fills my ears with its gentle whistling. I hear Marissa clicking her lighter, trying to win the fight against the wind. She eventually emerges from the conflict with a new glowing cigarette, her face momentarily obscured by the hazy waft of smoke, before it finds itself dancing in the wind and rises into the sky.
With great effort, I take my eyes away from the scenery sprawled out before me, and with a heave, find myself standing in the billowing gust. Simultaneously Marissa pushes herself away from the door and makes her way down the steps. Her feet meet the tar with a soft tap, and soon make their way next to mine before halting. Together they begin to move, with each step, drawing closer to their final goal. They reach the rear of a dark purple Honda Accord, and take their separate paths. The pink flip-flop clad feet glide towards the passenger side, and the ratty sneakers scuffle along in the direction of the driver’s seat. Both of our figures disappear from view and find their seats in the car. With the sound of the revving engine, we soon find ourselves leaving the landscape in front of the apartment building behind. Before me lays the one way street and with a tap on the gas pedal, off we go to a new destination.