The End

Put the shoes in it's designated order, heavy boxes to unload and fill in the holes on the shelves. Reminds me of the winter when I first started as a season associate for a retail store and I met you for the first time. I was uninterested, unappealing to your sense of humor. I stumbled on your social media and realized that me and you were similar, but not alike. Days passed and you became a spark of intrigue, begging to be lighted at every encounter. We gravitated together, talking on music and how bands we knew were just a foreign language to the masses. People tried to interject, but none could catch up. Nights grew older with you and NYE came. We sat in an old sofa in Union, NJ where everyone spoke about our high school years and you smiled the whole time, all you cared about was our small moments outside smoking Newports. "You don't know how to smoke a cigarette," my first lie came afterwards. That was my first time smoking a cigarette, but if I died of cancer at least I knew it was because it started on a night like this. The most memorable and unbeatable memory of us in the backseat of my first car that you still drive to this day with your new girlfriends. Though places change, people get replaced, emotions get scattered and diluted, I always hope we can encompass that memory and make that the pinnacle of us. In the backseat of our car, it was the best night of my life. 

Reviews

[PaintedBirdy]

nostalgia stories always punch my heart hard, even when it's not my own nostalgia. i too remember smoking my first cigarettes, but it was my buddy who told me i wasn't inhaling right. we were on the roof outside my room when i was 13. i smoked newports some, but i always preferred lucky strike filterless, but they were hard to find where i lived. thanks for sharing this. i've always liked your yarn.