Memories & Cigarettes

It's 5:38 back home right now, but here, I'm staring outside this hotel window, wondering who else is up at 1 am. Is anyone else struggling with jet lag?

It's disorienting, at best, how is it still yesterday and somehow also tomorrow? It makes this all naturally super weird.

I can't sleep because my knee hurts. This damn weather is bizarre, but I guess that’s London in a nutshell.

I really need to rest but I find myself sitting here, staring at this stupid window thinking of you. I know the window is not stupid, I’m just tired.

I need to have a smoke.

God, it's cold outside, but I can't stand smoking indoors, specially not like this, when every little thing becomes a huge everything. . . something.

It’s dark and humid, and I'm not entirely sure if it’s because I'm so close to the river or it’s just how this town breathes. You would love it of course, even if the same humidity made your knees hurt as well. You’re good at finding the good in little things.

You were at the park when we met, reading a book of course. You and your books, always attached to the hip, sometimes you don’t even read them, it drives me crazy. Crazy good. It's cute but I can't understand it. Maybe I'm jealous, I don't know, you dive deep into that world and I have to wait for you to come back, and . . .

I don't know, maybe I worry one day you won't, you know?

These damn thoughts man, creeping up at 1:30, can't stop myself from thinking them, have nowhere to put them. I need you and your silly made up stories that are so incredibly epic I forget everything that worries me.

Where was I?

The damn book. Massive. You looked so into it I couldn't help myself from staring at your cute face. It was creepy, now that I think of it, but you seemed like the coolest chick, you know?

Inside your own bubble.

It was like you yourself were a book with an attractive cover, and I couldn’t really tell what the story was about but at the same time, couldn't help myself from wanting to read it.

So I just sat next to you, absolutely no idea what to say. What an idiot.

Just thinking about it, I'm getting nervous again.

I wish I had something to drink.

I'll smoke instead.

You stopped reading around two thirds of it maybe, definitely more than halfway through and just stared into the distance for a long minute, with a loud deep inhale. I was mesmerized. Really.

Then you looked at me and I was done for.

Not like, love at first sight, no. There was just something in the way you looked at me, you were sad. Then you raised your eyebrows and did a little side smile. Cutest thing I’d ever seen. My presence turned your sadness into a happy surprise and you know, it felt damn good.

Made me smile too.

And just like that, I knew I couldn't go on not knowing you.

“Hi.”

You reached out your hand - such a tiny hand you had, and I held it for a bit longer than I should have but could you blame me? I just wanted to take in all of you, you know?

Had a million questions all ready to go; favourite food, movie, song, team, animal, place. All of the important questions and the ones just meant to, I don’t know. . .

Meant to show me the way to you.

It was only when you finally put the book aside that I felt my shoulders relax a bit. And you did it in a way, I could swear you whispered something when you caressed the cover.

Did you, babe?

These things make me chuckle, how you’re both so sweet and passionate about the things you love. I guess it’s exactly what makes you. . . you.

Damn, it's cold. I won't get any sleep like this but I don't want to get back to bed, not now, with all these thoughts of you running around in my head. God, no.

Funny to look at the room from here, it’s so dark from either side, can’t even make out the lights, how appropriate, to be surrounded by fucking darkness.

You know, that book, that book has been around for as long as I can remember. I don't get it, you know it's gonna make you sad, heck, I've seen you cry actual tears when reading it, but you go back to it. Like clockwork, I know which page you’re on, because you always hold your head up and look for me. I know which page, which passage, when you look for me. You're looking for that happiness in the park.

Damn it.

Is that why you read it, babe?

I remember our first argument, shit, why am I thinking of it now? Of all the happy moments we have, why that one?

My head hurts.

I could be thinking of the first time we kissed, how you were sitting on the high chair and you pulled me closer. God, my heart was racing and I just couldn't figure out if I should kiss you or not. But the second I felt your warmth. . .

Oh, fuck.

I could really use a drink.

That was it, our first argument. I was drunk.

You looked so beautiful. A fancy dress and converse shoes. Oh babe, you really were something else.

It was one of those drunk moments and I get it. To be honest, I don’t remember us arguing about serious stuff;

Games? Yeah. Food? My goodness yes.

The temperature of the bath, the room, how you never have any fucking shoes on.

The insane amount of books delivered to my door.

It’s fucking hilarious now, of course, but in the midst of it. . .

“Please wear matching socks.”

Looking back, I feel you were right when you said the things I liked most would be the things annoying me in the end.

I don't know how we got here, babe. Really can't figure it out.

And it’s not just this dark hotel room and the window overlooking the city I know you love. It's not the memories of what was. Every beat of my heart is yours.

And I don't know what to do with it. I gotta learn how to grow from it.

That's a deep insight from a hotel room, too many cigarettes and no alcohol.

See, you’d laugh.

You’d make an entire story from it on the spot, with massive plot holes that made no sense, but it wouldn’t matter anyway.

I should really get some sleep.

But I know. I just know my mind is gonna take me to you. I'm gonna think of your lips and . . .

It’s not even gonna be about them, or your body. It will, but it won’t.

You know what throws me over the edge?

The way you moan.

Fuck. The way you let pleasure take over your body, at times I felt like I wasn't even there, you know? You could go to town on your own not needing me. It was like watching something so private and then you’d pull me closer and damn. That’d be it.

Your voice.

The things you say, or used to say, that changed an entire vocabulary for me. Woman, you took inside jokes to another level.

I'll find something to do with these feelings, grow from it, you know?

Sleep doesn't come, even in this darkness.

The bed is half empty and you're not here, but I did get a copy of the book you were reading when we met. It's silly, but I'm gonna put it on the side table.