Sometimes, the pain of it all brought tears to her eyes. It wasn't the burning and stinging sensation centering on the tips of her raw nerves, but the beauty of the agony-- its fullness. She marveled at how acutely she could feel the rending of her fibrous tissues, or at least what she assumed might be a physical manifestation of it.
She took a drag. The smoke filled her mouth, and its bitter taste centered her.
It's not about how painful it is now she thought It's how I savor it.
Like bruises on her neck and on her chest and on her thighs and on her insides, the roundness of the pain she felt served as a reminder. It grabbed her by the hair strained her neck and forced her to bend forward toward the light of memories, where the future and the past came together to form the present. With each blinding flash of white hot heat, she felt herself arrive closer to the place that she new she must arrive at, somehow.
The bright cherry reached dangerously close to the filter. Taking a last puff, she felt heat warm her lips. She let the butt of the cigarette drop and ground out the embers with her shoe, but a few ashes escaped.
She hopped down from her seat on the brick wall. The glowing ashes had scattered like a small path. Squatting, she reached out. With a slender finger, she ground out the first still-burning ash, wincing as it seared her skin.
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