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Writewithoma
Fiction Author || Freelance writer || Content Creator @ National open university of Nigeria
Fiction Author || Freelance writer || Content Creator @ National open university of Nigeria
A Piece From The Rain
<p><br/></p><p>“Some nights all you want is to feel warmed by something, anything.”</p><p><br/></p><blockquote>“This came to me tonight, on a bike, in the rain. I didn’t get to write it down till now.”</blockquote><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>I was on a bike. Rain and wind mixed together, the kind that doesn’t ask permission, just soaks you and moves on. I passed a man taking a puff cigarette, I think, though I couldn’t be sure, just the smell trailing behind him into the wet air. Bike moved on. Then another man, another smell, this one sweeter, heavier Canadian Loud, maybe, I don’t know these things, I just know it smelled like something I wanted.</p><p><br/></p><p>And I dodged myself. Eyes wet from the rain, or something else, hard to say when everything’s already wet.</p><p><br/></p><p>Shouldn’t I deserve a smoke?</p><p><br/></p><p>Not to justify addiction. Not to romanticize it. Just some people have a partner waiting, something warm cooking, someone to come home to. And me, I had wind and rain and a bike and nothing to warm me but the idea of a stranger’s smoke drifting past.</p><p><br/></p><p>Don’t I deserve that too? Even once. Even just to feel warmed by something, anything, on a night like that.</p><p><br/></p>
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