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Romance Drama LGBTQ+

Marlboros to Midnight

By Ethan Glenn-Reller

Word Count: 1364


I’m a man of little care and littler wage. I spend most of my days asleep and most of my nights working the late shift at the ampm a few blocks from my flat. At some point I stopped staring out the window waiting for the sun to rise during my shifts and just focused on breaking dollar bills and grabbing packs of Marlboro cigarettes from behind the counter for the few customers that wondered in. Marlboro ciggs come in a variety of flavors but the three we usually have are Menthol, Smooth, and Original. On one particular evening, just before my shift was wrapping up, a man walked in and asked me for a pack of cigarettes. “Any pack of Marlboros, I don’t really care to be honest.” I nodded and grabbed him a pack of Smooth, the gold label giving a nice shine against the florescent lights of the store. “$7.12 total with tax,” I noted. “Damn, that much for a pack of cigarettes? Are they all the same cost?” “Yeah, for the Marlboros.” The man shrugged and threw a 10-dollar bill by way. I broke it and gave him back his change. He took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it with a lighter from his pocket. “These are pretty good. Here, take this.” He took the lighter he had just lit the cigarette with and slid it to me across the counter. “A memento until I get to properly thank you for the smokes.” I didn’t really understand what he meant, but he was out the door before I could ask him to explain. I took the lighter and put it in my pocket, feeling the smoke from his lit cigarette settle on the collar of my shirt. I’ve never found myself partial to cigarette smoke, and I enjoy lighting some incense on a cold morning after work to get the scent of burnt tobacco off me, so I decided to do this once my shift ended. After I got home and took off my uniform, I poured myself a glass of cheap white whine and grabbed a record from my shelf, Ryo Fukui’s Mellow Dream. I started the record and opened up the drawer I keep my sticks of incense in. For no particular reason, I found myself unable to choose between Dragon’s Blood and Midnight, two scents I used quite a lot on mornings like this. I picked Midnight, though this decision wouldn’t be as inconsequential as I first thought. When I opened the box there was only one stick of incense left. I put it on an incense holder by my apartment window and grabbed the lighter from my pocket, lighting the incense stick and opening the window a crack. I took my undershirt off and fell back onto my bed. I closed my eyes, enjoying the rain of piano keys, the sizzle of the snare, the thumping of the double bass. The scent of the incense settled over me and the cool air felt nice against my bare chest. I forget what track was playing, I want to say either “My Foolish Heart” or “What’s New”, but I felt a sudden shift in the mood around me. I could smell the scent of tobacco again, and when I opened my eyes, I was staring up into the emerald green irises of the man who gave me the lighter a few hours earlier. I yawned, too tired and wrapped up in the comfort of the music and incense to protest his being there. “Can you not smoke in here? It ruins my mood,” I grumbled. He sat down on the bed beside me, turning to stare out the window. “I like this song, what’s it called?” I shrugged, “I don’t know, check the back of the record cover. I lost track of where I am on the album.” He stood up and walked over to the window where the record player and the incense were and flipped over the album cover, shrugging and taking another hit from his cigarette before turning back to me. “You mind if I take off my shirt?” I still didn’t want to get up so I just tilted my head a bit to make sure I could see him. “I don’t think I’d mind. But only if you stop smoking.” He laid down next to me, looking up at the celling. “If I stop smoking, I’ll disappear. I’m only here because of that lighter I gave you.” “Huh, why?” “It links the first two scents it lights. So once that stick of incense or this cigarette burns out the link is gone. Whenever you light that type of incense with that lighter while I’m also smoking this type of cigarette, I’ll be here.” I nodded, “So why did you give me the lighter?” He smiled, “I don’t know, you seemed like someone who’s as bored as I am. Also, you’re kinda hot” he said with a shrug. I laughed, “Pretty elaborate way to pick up a guy.” He shook his head, “Nah. If I wanted to hook up with you, I would have scribbled my number on the back of a receipt.” “So you don’t find me attractive then?” “No, I find you very attractive. I’m just not here to push for some romantic relationship. I wanted to find some guy I could lie around with. You know, do nothing with. You seemed like someone that’s nice for that sort of thing. If you want to do something more I’d be down, but that’s not my goal here.” I stared up at celling with him, watching the smoke from his cigarette drift into the air. I still didn’t like the smell of burning tobacco, but somehow when the smoke was coming from his mouth it felt comforting. It mixed with the smoke of the incense into this warm velvety cologne that made my whole body feel warm and tingly. “I don’t think I want to do anything more than this tonight. You can take your shirt off though,” I responded. He nodded and pulled off his white T-shirt, flipping onto his side. I turned over as well, just staring into his eyes while Fukui’s rendition of “My Funny Valentine” played, the music weaving in and out of the mix of smoky morning air surrounding us. After a while I ended up nuzzled into his chest, growing to like the way the smell of tobacco smoke drifted off his lip and hung on his collar. 


“See me again, okay?”

“Yeah.”


I woke up as the sun was setting, the incense burnt out, the record skipping on the last groove, and the sounds of cars driving back from their morning jobs on the street beside me. He was gone. I realized I never asked for his name nor him for mine. All that remained of him was a lingering scent of Marlboro Smooths and some burnt cigarette ash left to dust the place on the bedsheets where he was lying the night before. I grabbed the box of Midnight incense, remembering then that it was completely empty. It’s been years now, but I’ve never found another box of Midnight incense. The company that made them went out of business a few months before I got the box, which ended up being from their last line of stock. Sometimes I wish that I would have chosen Dragon’s Blood that night, so I could continue to relight that same scent every morning when I get back from my shift. That he would be lighting another Marlboro Smooth cigarette, and that we would be together again while the sounds of morning birds enter the air. As it is though, I’ve never found another pack of Midnight incense to try and pull him back to me, nor have I seen him again at the ampm where I work. Sometimes I pick up that lighter he gave me and think about him somewhere hundreds of miles away, buying another pack of Marlboro Smooth and lighting a cigarette as the sun peaks over the horizon, waiting. The rising smoke from his mouth a call I can never answer.


May 29, 2021 00:38

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22:48 Jun 01, 2021

The dream like atmosphere paired with the lucid details and vivid connections to sensory experience create a unique complexity of emotions. At moments suspenseful yet others melancholy, the story drifts but is grounded by intimacy, even when juxtaposed by the ultimate reality of loneliness. Makes me want to smoke a cigarette, even though I don’t believe I have ever actually inhaled. Thank you Ethan for “ enlightening “ us .

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