Passing By: A 100 Word Story

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Malboro Lights.

$10 a pack.

My one pleasure.

Looks like rain.

Should put away the porch chair.

Dark sky for miles.

Fall in the air.

All those cold Saturdays at the football field.

Cheer-leading.

Yelling, dancing and twirling.

No one heard us.

Team went 1 and 14.

Should have stayed home, mom said.

Mom’s cough, the phlegmy chorus of my 30s.

Now her bedroom stores my photo albums, my winter clothes, 

         and the baby carriage.

Empty.

16^th floor.

So close I could spit on that train.

Instead, I flick my cigarette, hoping it jolts someone who’s on their way somewhere.