"Remember that guy I once told you about? The one I had the thing for a few months back, but ended up giving up on? The guitarist?" she asked, reclined on my sofa, smoking a cigarette with the TV mumbling in the background.
"Yeah, I think so. The one that started as fun, but ended up turning emotional." I replied, taking a sip of my tea.
"Yeah.. ha, him. Did I ever tell you about the time we ended up making out against his car one night?"
"Which time would that be?" I smirked. Yeah, so it was a cheeky response, but she and I were friends enough to let things like that slide.
"Funny. You're funny. Anyway, he said something that night. I still think about it sometimes." She paused for a second, as if just mentioning this spun her into a spiral of thought about that very same thing.
"We had stumbled out of the bar near that restaurant on Hamra street. It was near to 3 a.m. and he offered to drive me to my car. What a lame excuse for a goodnight kiss if you ask me, but the mood was right, and he was a sweetheart, so we walked towards his car, and well, ya da ya da ya da, I pulled him towards me and we sorta fell onto the side of his car. We kissed and stroked and well, you don't need all the details, you've done it before..."
"Of course... so? What's the point of your mini risque story?" I interrupted.
"Well, there was a moment where I slid my hands under his shirt, and caressed his back, and sides. Softly. There wasn't anything very animalistic about it you know?" She took a drag of her cigarette, and I heard the slight crackling of the tobacco. "He stopped, pulled his head back and looked me straight in the eye, smiled slightly and stroked my cheek with his hand, so I asked him what was wrong, you know what he told me? He said no one had shown him tenderness like that before. It practically made me flinch in shock, and then I felt sad for him, you know? Can someone really not feel simple tenderness before? I mean, is it even possible?" Her eyes and tone became twisted with confusion and slight melancholy.
"I don't know... I suppose yes, at the same time no. I guess it shouldn't be possible to never experience that sort of basic affection, but surprisingly, a lot of people don't." I say, and realise how scientific and dry I sounded.
She turned out her cigarette in the ashtray on the low table in front of her. As she blew the smoke in a straight stream that slowed and dissipated closer to me, her mouth curved slowly downward, and once again, I lost my friend to thought. Her eyes were a tell tale. They slowly strained with sadness, and as they fluttered slightly, I saw her lower eyelid line with silver.
"I think that's the saddest thing I've ever heard..." she said still staring into the space in front of her, heavy with remnants of smoke, before turning to look straight at me and continuing "..right?"
I sighed softly, and felt the burn of her question.
"Yea... it is. It really is."
She straightened up, stood, and walked out onto the balcony letting some fresh air in.
And in the sunlight, she lit another cigarette, and looked up at the sky.
