Monday, April 21, 2008

Nicotine (Excerpt)

He waited till the plane was just a mere speck in the pink sky. It was dusk. The hairs on his forearms stood as he felt the first chill of the evening air. The talahib swayed lazily, oblivious to the turmoil of emotions that racked his heart.

He craved for a smoke. His hand felt the bulge of the crumpled half-empty cigarette pack on the pocket of his shirt.


The big vein on his forehead started pulsating, marking the onset of one of those bad headaches he got. Like a thousand hammers beating on my skull. He thought. By now the sky had darkened to a deep purple hue, and he had not moved an inch since he first stood there. He crushed the cigarette pack with his fist and tore them to bits with his fingers.

Like a madman, he suddenly squatted to retrieve the torn cigarette bits on the damp grass. Just a whiff! He collected them on his palm and sniffed it. Ah! The sweet smell of tobacco entered his nostrils. The pounding seemed to lessen each time he took a sniff. He buried his face on his palms and inhaled deeply.

There was no moon that night, only the electric lights of the nearby houses of Fisherman’s Village illuminated the nightscape. The bay near the airport brought a taste of saltiness in the air. Miguel stood up and wiped his hands on his dirty jeans.

He slowly started his way back to the road, stumbling clumsily in the dark.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

where's the rest of the story?


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