Fading Ember

In his hand, he is clutching an empty pack of Marlboro red. He didn't expect to find it in his car's compartment. He opens his hand and stare at the pack. And a floodgate of memories open.

They met in school last semester. She always came in late. The teacher would always find a way to make a joke of her coming in late. He would laugh together with the rest of the class. That was how it went until the end of the sem. But as the days were numbered, he started missing her on days she was absent. Once, when he noticed that she was worried about possibly failing in class, he texted her through a number she gave him through a casual conversation after class. This led to friendship. As the days went on, she wanted more. But he was hesitant. And it remained like that for a couple of weeks.

Sembreak came. They continued communicating. And then they went out. After a few drinks, they decided to go out of the bar and stay in the car. She lit a cigarette and offered him one. They talked. And as the night progressed, their conversation got serious. The talk took a turn into the familiar route of romantic  relationships. He decided to give it a try as he felt happy when he is with her. They both were --- or so he thought. They went out a couple of times, had fun, texted each other every day… And then came the petty fights and days without seeing or texting each other. All this in just a month. Then she suddenly decides to end it. Making it appear that it was him who wanted it. He tried to bridge the gap, she wanted no more of him. Then came the pain.

He shook off his gaze from the pack of cigarette. This was the same pack he shared with her on their first night out. He was about to crumple the pack when he noticed that there's one more stick inside. He pulls it out, reaches for his lighter, and smokes the last stick.

He asks himself several questions: "Where did I go wrong? Why did I feel so manipulated? Am I not worthy? Was I just someone she used to while away the time?" It has been 4 months since he has seen her. Months of conflicting emotions. Of terrible longing and loathing. Sadness yet relief.

Yes, relief. That at least there's a sense of finality. He stares at the cigarette in his hand as it gets shorter by the minute. The embers glowing brightly in the night. I wanted it to work, he thought to himself. But she didn't. And now, he doesn't want it either. There's no point in it anymore. Some things are not meant to be fixed.


As the embers of the cigarette were fading, he opened the car door and stubbed the stick on the cold pavement. I'm done. He starts the engine and drives. As the car advances, he opens the window and tosses the crumpled pack of cigarette. This one is done.