Burning Bridges

The Other Side of Ridiculous

His hands were cold, clammy. He didn’t know what to say. He watched her take another puff from the cigarette she held in her hands delicately—almost too delicately—and took a deep breath as well.

She cleared her throat, and pursed her lips. Throughout the months they’d been together, he recognized this habit of hers, of smacking her lips together, or biting down on her lower lip, when deep in thought.

“Yeah?” He preempted, and he felt a little relief from seeing her lips curl into a small smile.

“We need to stop.” She said softly, the smile still playing on her lips.

He paused, unaware of what to say.

He looked her over, and saw how much she’d changed. He tried to find the words to describe her and what she’d been when they’d first met, and decided he would settle for no less than, back then, she’d been “alive”. There were many things that would illustrate this change—like how her hair had now decided to flow down past her shoulders in that messy way that he liked, and how her lips now pursed more often than they curled—but it was most evident in her eyes.

He remembered looking into them months ago and seeing how bright and vibrant they were; how full of wonder they seemed to be. Now she glanced at him with dull, unfeeling orbs.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She said, still smiling as the amber light of her cigarette flickered.

He reached over and took the small stick from her hands, throwing it down on the ground beside them before grinding it down with his heel. “I thought you said you weren’t going to smoke anymore?”

“I’m losing my mind; I need to stop seeing you.”

“Give me the rest of your smokes.”

“D-Didn’t you hear me? We need to stop doing this to ourselves—“

“Give them to me.”

“It’s not going to help. I can always buy more.”

“Now give me your lighter.”

“I’m only going to hurt y—“

They both stared at the lighter’s small flame as he lit the cigarette in his lips, taking a deep breath.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up at her, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and exhaled, seeing the cloud of smoke escape from his mouth—or was it his nose? He couldn’t really tell. He saw her eyes following the cloud of smoke as well, and, just for a split second, he saw them widen with wonder.

“What are you doing?” She asked again, reaching over and trying to take the lit cigarette from his mouth. He shook his head and told her to wait, rolling the smoke on his tongue. It was a weird taste, sort of bitter, but sort of cool.

She fidgeted in her seat a bit, and looked around at all the other people there, all minding their own business, unaware of the bridge burning right in front of them.

“I still love you, you know. That hasn’t changed.” She said.

He took the pack of cigarettes from the table and offered her a stick.

“No, I quit, but thank you.”

She leaned back on her chair and took a deep breath. He put the cigarettes back down on the table, and continued to fumble with his first stick. They were quiet for a little bit, until she reached over and took a stick from the pack.

“I thought you were quitting?” He asked.

“I can’t let you do this alone.”

His hands were cold and clammy. He didn’t know what to say. She lit her cigarette and he kept his.

—
The Temper Trap — Sweet Disposition

Sweet Disposition
Never to soon
Ohh wreck less abandon
Like no one’s
Watching you

A moment, a love, a dream, aloud
A kiss, a cry, our rights, our wrongs

So stay there
Cause I’ll be coming over
And while our blood’s still young
It’s so young it runs
We won’t stop till it’s over
Won’t stop to surrender

Songs of desperation
I played them for you

A moment, a love, a dream, aloud
A kiss, a cry, our rights, ours wrongs

A moment ohh…

So stay there
Cause I’ll be coming over
And while our blood’s still young
It’s so young it runs
We won’t stop till it’s over
Won’t stop to surrender

A moment, a love, a dream, aloud
A kiss, a cry, our rights, ours wrongs