Orient Express

Tuesday, April 27, 2010
She Was Cool at 12:36 AM

As I stood by the road, I smelt the distinct scent of cigarette in the air. Ready to cross, I turned my head to have a sight of the oncoming traffic before I made the leap of faith towards my home. She came walking towards me, the straps of her rectangle bag dragging on the ground, a cigarette held loosely in the other, and her short bob haircut flicking past her face casually with the wind. She wore a dark brown leather jacket which hung comfortably around her medium frame, and had dark blue jeans with black converses on. Her eyes were emotionless and cool, and for a brief second they connected with mine.

I quickly turned back towards the traffic, and as soon as there was a clearing, I walked across and continued my trek.

She strolled in front of me in the middle of the quiet road, whilst I was sheepishly walking on the pedestrian pathway. The smoke of her cigarette was wafting past through the strands of her hair and left a trail for me to follow. The usually unpleasant scent was strangely addictive, and the desire to talk to her compelled me to fasten my pace. Of course, I knew I could never strike up a 'hi' or any sort of introductory line with a stranger. The smell of her cigarette simply got imprinted into my memories and as soon as our paths parted, that's all that would be left of her to me.


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