As he draws in the last remnants of warmly stale nicotine from his now-wrinkled cigarette stub, he immerses himself in the skyglow of the witching hour, as the half-crescent moon, sequin-silver grains of stardust, and the various streetlamps bordering the sidewalk diffuse a white-yellowish light across the midnight-blue sky, and then also over the obscure seas beneath uncovering the buried underwater treasures of the night.
And it all looked misty and fantastical to him on this humid summer night, as he viewed the world through the last puff of blue-grey cigarette smoke and after a few shots of pure malt whisky for the evening. The promenade along the seafront previously strewn with cliques of people conversing, beautiful females in all their diversities showcasing lightweight, bright-coloured, swingy summer dresses, and unruly youngsters scooting dexterously through the congested spaces, now lay bare and silent under the watchful eye of the warm, incandescent night.
There were just a few people still out on this early Wednesday morning, dispersed across the various lounge bars in the area or restaurants temporarily converted into bars after kitchen closing hours, as was the norm in the area.
It was then that he turned slightly around to look straight at her, as if he was looking at her for the first time.
She looked particularly pallid, far away and out of place in the unfamiliar dark hours of the day, while sitting in her floral black and white midi-dress with a light dab of lustrous red lip sheen, and with her glass of see-through white wine nearly untouched. Her waist-long, loose, chestnut locks had this disturbing tendency of sliding intermittently especially over the right side of her face, and at times partially covering her right eye, giving him this nagging urge to shove her hair back off her face. And yet, he was taken in by the way she was now looking at him unsmiling from beneath her head of hair, as if the day’s last pearly tear of sunshine had landed in her eyes and was still mildly flickering, giving her smallish, light- brown hooded eyes a steely golden glint in the night’s strange lights.
Then all of a sudden he is splattering on his glass of whiskey, as he finds himself in the grips of a brief, dry cough. The waiter brings him some water, and he then asks for the bill.
‘You should quit smoking, and drink in moderation. If anything, do it for yourself.’ she tells him in her chant-like voice, and in an all too familiar tone, as if she knew him well.
He looks at her as if in a daze, as if wondering what she was even doing there with him.
Ƨ
A few minutes later, they are walking holding hands along the pathway and away from the majestic, sombre seas, knowing that they would soon part ways.
It now gets dim and shadowy, as they leave the last beacon of light behind.
When they reach the end of the path, they turn around to look into each other’s eyes. He takes this opportunity to put the hair falling in her face gently and securely behind her ear, so he can take in her full facial features, and she looks prettier than he had thought.
Then, as if in mutual understanding while still looking at each other and grasping each other’s hands tightly, they then brush their lips against each other, for him to then press his mouth more forcefully against her rouge-glossed lips as he clutches her waist. However, as if on second thoughts, she removes herself from his embrace, and looking at him one last time with her eyes and her now visible ear drops twinkling in the semi-darkness, she then turns around and walks away around the corner, lost to his sight.
He knew he would never see her again.
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