The sky is blooming. I watch as it offers a pallette of brilliant pinks and oranges, and for a moment I am captivated by its harmonic balance. I lightly cross my arms over the bars of the pier, silently admiring the view. "Smoke?" Noah asks, offering a cigarette from the pack he always keeps in his jacket. Usually, I would have acquiesced, but the idea of manufactured smoke seems out of place here. "Nah." He stares inquiringly for a second, but shrugs and lights himself one instead. I close my eyes briefly and hear the morning waves gently rolling in under my feet. The wooden planks creak as Noah shifts and drapes his arms over the bars, copying my position like a child would. "You make me sad, you know," I say, catching sight of two distant silhouettes; seagulls. "What?" He asks, his voice slightly muffled by the cigarette. "How you can't just enjoy this moment without those damn cigarettes. You know they're killing you?" He rolls his eyes as if to say, not again. I continue, annoyed by his reaction. "God, it's like you want to be a product of consumerism – eat, work, pay bills, sleep, smoke, die. I hate this stupid routine and this stupid city. You know what I want? An unpredictable life away from all the traffic and the smoke and the noise. I want to see something real." ✦
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