Candle lights flicker in the breeze.
“I’m destined to be this way...”
Smoke rose from his mouth while the cigarette clung haphazardly between his fingers, looking like it might fall at any moment.
The evening breeze was soft and cool on his too hot skin and the wooden engawa was firm against his back, smooth and polished, almost slippery beneath his feet. He turned his head to his right staring out across the garden, soft flickering tea lights encompassed the circular space away from the dark shadows that lingered near the trees and six foot tall wooden fence.
Flowers weren’t really his thing, not for a lack of talent, but a lack of motivation to grow something just to snip it and set it on the dining room table. No, instead he grew thick, hip high tomato plants and ripe red and orange peppers. To the right of those a small and densely packed herb patch grew: basil, mint, lemon grass, parsley and his big borderline invasive rosemary bush.
“Just you and me, Kui.”
He admired the view of his handy work under the candle lighting briefly, before movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head toward the house and the half closed paper door, and stares as he inhaled slowly from his cigarette.
His company’s shoulders hitched up twice in quick succession, yet no sound followed. He rolled his eyes skyward trying to portray his utter disdain for life and all its many, many problems.
“Are you just going to keep standing there?” He asked the silent observer. Flickers of light swayed back and forth on the underside of the roof above him as he lay waiting.
Wind pushed into his smoke as the other came and sat down by his head, their left leg off the edge of the porch and the other bent with an arm across. Silence stretched by comfortably between them.
He raised his cigarette again and pulled at the end watching as the cherry burned to the end almost at the filter. He held the breath for one second before exhaling and stubbing the end into the ashtray, which sat on the step beside the porch to his right.
Relaxed as the smoke left him entirely, he laid back with his arms crossed behind his head. Even with his eyes closed he could feel the barely noticeable hesitation of the other as their left hand raised, paused, and carded through his hair.
He hummed.
The finger’s tentative exploration gained confidence as the hand pulled carefully, trying in vain to avoid any of the numerous knots. They ran their too short nails through black strands and scratched gentle small circles onto his skull.
The late summer breeze blew through faster briefly, pushing past plants and grass, and bringing the thick savory scent of ...something with it. His stomach growled lowly, he hadn’t eaten since coffee this morning.
The hand paused.
He frowned, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance.
As was their nature the other stood and disappeared without a word. The sound of the fridge being opened was almost silent, had he not thought to strain his ears against the quiet.
He almost smiled.