Story teaser

A man in a black bomber jacket and jeans leaned against the outer wall of the old midtown bank, looking as though he belonged there; it was as if he had leaned against that exact cement every day of his life, with not a care in the world besides the weather. In reality, it was Jason Arbent's first time in Pittsburgh, and therefore his first time using the "Majestic Midtown Bank" as a backrest. On this day, though, he could not look like a tourist. To look out of place, lost, or too interested in his surroundings would be suicide. He shifted his weight slightly to take a little of the pressure from his jeans off his left pocket. He pulled out a cigarette from that pocket, and put it in his mouth. Part of him cringed a little every time he placed one of the harmless-looking white cylinders to his lips; he was not a smoker normally, but nicotine did an excellent job of calming his nerves and steadying his hand.

Jason shifted his weight again, reaching into his right pocket this time, and retrieving... nothing. The casual observer would have thought he had just grabbed a lighter, but he didn't even own one. As far as he could remember, he had never had any use for them. For the sake of appearances, though, he raised his closed right fist, and cupped his left hand around the end of the cigarette. He even pretended to flick a nonexistent flint on his invisible lighter. 'I deserve an Oscar,' he thought to himself, as he focused his mind on the end of the cigarette. He felt a gentle pull throughout his body; so subtle that he never would have felt it if he hadn't been waiting for it. He could feel every molecule in the air between his hands and the cigarette. He could feel the tip of the cigarette growing hotter as the tugging sensation continued. The moment it ignited, he released his focus and took a deep drag. The slightly unsettling sensation of smoke filling his lungs was quickly replaced by the calm produced by the chemical cocktail in the cigarette.

He stood and smoked, staring around at the people walking down the street, doing their shopping, taking their lunch breaks. A few of them were old enough to be retired; probably just walking around and enjoying the spring weather. Jason envied those strangers the most. Despite his manufactured appearance, he could only imagine what it was like to have nowhere to be and an entire day to get there. His thoughts were cut short, however, when a man in a gray, well-cut suit bustled by. Maybe Armani, he thought. Whatever it was, it made Jason's outfit look like a bad joke. It was a shame, he thought, that his target had such a nice suit on. There probably wouldn't be much left of it by the time he was finished. Jason pulled a small hand-held device out of his pocket and pressed a quick sequence of numbers into the virtual keypad on the touch screen. He took one last quick pull from the cigarette, and then dropped it to the pavement. The lit end hit first, showering sparks into the air. They followed Jason's boot for a moment as he stepped into the sidewalk and hurried after the man in the gray suit.


[To be continued(?) ...]

A Walk in the Cold

My breath rose, seemingly tangible before my face with each exhale as we walked side by side. Neither of us had spoken for a while, but rather focused on keeping our steady pace and taking in the chill evening, likely to be one of the last entirely tolerable ones of the year. My thoughts were few, but significant; refusing to be ignored. A memory here, an idea there, a yearning most prevalent among them. They shared a common face and voice. I wanted you to know the fondness with which I was thinking of you. I wanted to tell you that I felt everything you did was important, captivating and graceful. I wished I could confess, right then and there on that dark sidewalk, that you had my whole being at your disposal, whether or not you wanted it. I knew the words were there, ones which should have been spoken far away from that empty street and long before that night. I inhaled slowly, cooling my core, steeling myself to allow a brief glimpse at a more vulnerable and reckless side of me.

But would it be worthwhile?

There it was: the question I had so dreaded, and had known would arise. I wished then, and still do, that I had not known myself so well; fearing the hesitation may have guaranteed its awakening. Being a cautious person, I was bound to consider the possible consequences of such a confession as i was preparing to make. I thought of who I would hurt, who I might hurt, and everything that might be lost. Should you brush the words off, you might be rid of them, but they would remain echoing in the air around me, maybe forever. If only they would dissipate like the moisture on my breath, crystallizing and crumbling and becoming nothing after leaving my tongue. I couldn’t deceive myself; I knew that I would not speak. The struggle only lasted a split second. You didn’t see the flash of subtle self-disgust in my eyes. Maybe it was the breath: slow, deep, the exhale shuddering slightly. Whatever it was that broke your reverie, you were compelled to break the silence first.

“What’s on your mind right now?”

I paused briefly, composing my thoughts.

“Oh, nothing.”

I watched as the breath bearing my gentle omission froze, twisted, and was gone.