The hardest thing

 





I found Kareem outside the museum, smoking furiously, a cloud of smoke whirling about him. I sidled up close.

“Hey…”

He just grunted back, still in a foul mood.

“It’s not an on-off switch for me,” I repeated my words earlier, this time, gently.

When he didn’t say anything, I continued, “I’m hoping it will be more like a dimmer control.”

He snickered at that. A half-laugh was better than a grim face, I thought.

“So, it’s not easy for you, either?”

“The hardest thing I’ll ever have to do," I said.

He turned to study my face and measure my words, a questioning look on his face. I nodded, suppressing the tears.

Without another word, he flicked the ash from his cigarette and passed it to me. I took it gratefully, inhaling a long, deep drag that hurt my lungs, before sighing out the smoke around us.


(An excerpt from a work in progress)

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