I grab my secret stash, head into the yard when the kids are sleeping and light up. I don’t do it for the nicotine. I do it to remember.
Those moments when we’d sneak outside at parties and have a sly one together. Your ice blue eyes would pierce my own, they’d penetrate my flesh, my thoughts, my soul. I couldn’t hold it for long. It burned.
We couldn’t touch, it wasn’t allowed. But we were desperate to. We both knew it. Back inside we’d lock eyes across a crowded room. A moment, a flash, but we knew what it meant. A glimpse through a gap in gyrating bodies and we’d ravish each other for an eternity. Look away.
Sometimes our skin would touch. Thrown together for a group photo. The air crackles. Nobody noticed the unexploded bomb. Fake smiles. We are expert deceivers.
There are no more parties, no more stolen moments. Just me and the secret stash grasping at a feeling. If only we’d met in another life, another time.
I crush the cigarette out. A foul smell clings to my fingers, coats my tongue. A sickly swell churns my stomach. My lungs rot.
The aftermath. The regret. The self disgust. That’s how it would’ve been.
If they’d discovered us.
J. E. KENNEDY is an aspiring writer from Liverpool, England. Examples of her work can be found on her fantastical fiction website http://www.jekennedy.co.uk. Or follow her on Instagram @jekennedywriter. She is currently working on her debut novel.