Zehal-e-Miskeen - The Tale Continues - note pg 12 & blog link

Part 2 - A Puff Of Smoke

The paintbrush lingered between her lips as she sat on the windowsill, blowing the smoke from her mouth into tiny circles.

Winter had set in, and the chill in the air flirted with the skin of her bare arms, giving her goosebumps.

She relished in the feeling. Enjoyed the smaller things.

Smoking was a vice that she would never usually had considered, but the past month had proved to be a reckless invitation, opening the doors for all sorts of changes and differences in her life.

She rolled the burning cigarette between her fingers, and remembered him. Remembered how he embraced the habit, as if his life depended on it.

Now she understood.

A knock on the door below broke her thoughts. She stubbed the cigarette on the pane, placing it next to her the rest of them; a testimony to her survival, if you will.

The paintbrush went back in its palette, and a few moments later she opened the door to a familiar face.

"I got delayed."

She nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

He noticed the bare feet, the drop of a blue paint at the centre of her right foot. Before he could turn around and look at her, she stalked up the stairs.

He grimaced as he heard the door shut, then lock. She wouldn't be out for days now, maybe even a week.

Shaking his jacket off, he stepped out of the front door again, standing in its frame as he lit a cigarette.

Her gaze from the window above was felt, a tickling sensation that enticed him to turn around and look up once.

His eyes remained focused on the careful tufts of the nicotine smoke, the only thing standing as a testimonial between them.

Fabulous interesting part⭐️