Читать книгу Clouds Of Smoke… The Story - Gianluigi Ciaramellari - Страница 12

Massimo left the store saying goodbye to Damien, without looking away from his eyes which held him locked like a powerful magnet from which he could not escape.

Finally he lowered his head and walked quickly away, with his mind still reflected on the store mirror, in which he had sworn to give up smoking.

It was six o'clock in the afternoon, the days of mid-March had lengthened and mild temperatures allowed staying out until late at night, to walk, visit the city and feel that spring was already in the air, go window shopping... Oh... No, no, he had shopped enough for one day, he thought, although he didn’t regret what he had just done.

He absently put his hand in his jean pocket to pull out his lighter, and then from the pocket of his jacket he pulled out the pack of cigarettes. What was he doing? He stopped himself when he had almost brought the cigarette to his mouth in the act of lighting it, saw his reflection in the window of a bar, and remembered Damien, with his glowing green eyes: “…Now, you have carved this promise in your soul… “.

He was overwhelmed by the urge to smoke; he had never wanted a cigarette so much in his life. A man who was smoking casually passed by him and he turned his head in the direction of the smoke, craning his neck and opening his nostrils to catch the grey exhalation, his hand was bringing the lighter to his mouth and his eyes never left his reflection in the window. His mind was fighting a gruelling round; a strange force pulled the flame away from the tip of the rolled tobacco that was panting as much as he was; another force, intentional, brought it close again in the need to satisfy his desire. But the roll remained unlit, because he finally decided to trigger the new electronic cigarette button, he then pulled it out and took a puff.

He took such a long one and he inhaled so much of it that he was afraid he would fuse the battery. He found satisfaction, yes, and decided to put the package back in his jacket pocket.

“For now I can resist”, he thought. He saluted his image in the window of the bar, someone inside probably thought that the greeting was addressed to him, but Massimo turned away and continued walking, pleased with himself for not giving in to the tobacco industry.

Shaking his head he resumed walking, he decided that a walk would have relaxed him; he would continue to vape his electronic cigarette on his way home. Once he got home he would put his cigarettes on top of a closet, perhaps he would toss them up there, no matter where they ended.

The taste of tobacco which he was savouring was not bad indeed, it had a pleasant aromatic aftertaste; it didn’t give him bad breath, it satisfied his desire for nicotine and the steam coming out of his mouth was even whiter and more dense than that of a cigarette.

A cat crossed his path, passing almost over his feet, and hid in a garbage can. That morning the market had taken place on that street. Several cats were busy rummaging through papers and other debris, even food, spread across the ground. In the distance he saw that the vans of the garbage collectors were already arriving, to clean up the street and the plaza.

The black cat reappeared putting his nose out from his hiding place, staring at Massimo with a look of defiance, his eyes were green like Damien’s, and he made a gesture with his paw that seemed an invitation, “Come here if you dare!” it seemed to say.

But it wasn’t a challenge. The cat had something under his paw, something made of paper and on which was imprinted an image, a five-pointed star, like Damien’s earring, but it didn’t shine.

Massimo approached the cat, leaned over and was surprised to see that... Beside the star with five grey tips, was impressed the number 50. He had found fifty euros! Wow, the same amount he had spent in Damien’s store! He picked it up promptly, heedless of the cat who ran away quickly, without asking for a reward.