Third Night

Aidan slept on his large bed, looking to the side where his love once slept. His bed that he and — he couldn't even think of his name, afraid that he'd end up crying asleep again— had chosen now seemed too big just for one person. Or maybe he wasn't just used to sleeping alone.

It was the small insignificant moments he missed. The soft breathing of him next to Aidan, the funny occasional roll over onto his chest, the cuddling, and most of all the warmth he gave Aidan. They always told you to appreciate the small things in your life and Aidan treasured it all. It just turns out that his ex had found someone else. Aidan turned to the side and sighed, what else did he want? What more could've he given him? He paid for almost everything and never did he ever thank him. Ungrateful.

But there was a part of him that still loved him. Against all logic and reason, he still felt a slight tinge in his heart.

He turned on his lamp and opened a small drawer next to his bed. After pulling out some irrelevant papers from school, he found a wooden box with a beautiful ornamental latch on it. Stroking it affectionately, he remembered when this gift was given.

A gift, given in the cold of December, in front of his friends at a Christmas party. Open the box, the real present is inside, he said with an almost hungry echo in his voice.

And he did, that night and this night, he opened the brass latch that looked as though a master carpenter had labored over it for hours. A small plastic bag with fuzzy green herb, an ornate lighter, and a glass pipe sat in the box, waiting for Aidan to pick them up. They spoke to him in silent vibrations, luring him in to touch them, to love them, to kiss and breathe them in.

That night in the mirth of the holidays, Aidan remembered the hungry look in his eyes. It was his gift, but it looked as though his ex bought it for himself. And being considerate, Aidan gave his ex the first puff.

This night, he sat in his bed, with the company of his blankets, a lamp, the mess on the floor, and the gentle moonlight, and took a deep breath in. The heady smoke filled the air and his lungs.

Hold it in...

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Five...

He could count to thirty if he tried.

He only made it to ten. Noticing the rivulets that flowed down his cheek, he coughed out the smoke. Aidan looked at the ghostly smoke of his gift and swore that it looked like his ex, his sweet face with his cold eyes and deceiving smile. And as Aidan reached out to touch this apparition, it vanished into the moonlight that danced into room.

He took another puff, looking for that same ghost.