Today is an unusual day.

The setting is a bar in New York.

Now is 3 am, and lucky for Sam that she doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow, so she just can lay back and enjoy her drink.

Sorry, “enjoy” might be an incorrect word to articulate.

“It’s still unusual to see you up to this late, Sam.”

“You know me well, boss.”

“I do. It’s roughly 3 years. From then.”

She drinks.

She was trying hard to get things done in the work lately. But then when she knew she could do it, she had no reason to blame the one who distributed the workload or even blame herself. But she did. The more she put on heavy words on her chief the more she felt bad about herself. But have I mentioned that today is unusual? She might do the thing that nobody even thinks about. No, she does not end up dying, as that what people most think about, and we could see that as insurance of a happy story. Or is it?

“I know that she is lying. But I am not so sure whether I should say it out.”

“Why not?”

“If I said it, I have to admit that I am a hypocrite. And a hypocrite and a liar are not that different.”

“Sam, you are a terrible person.”

“Ah, you noticed.”

A second shot.

“It’s been three years. You only do the same thing over and over. I bet you do not see the difference.”

“Boss, stop advising me what to do. And especially not my order ‘cause I have another please.”

They laughed. And the boss tossed her the third one.

“I still can’t believe you can live with her. You can just run away.”

She did. She ran from responsibility. She chose the name Sam because it’s non-binary. And disguise her with a man cover but deep inside there’s nothing but a fragile soul. She did not admit it though. As now it is time to run.

“Then, what’s about it?”

Today is an unusual day, because she will not do it, as the other would also do the same.

“Then, what’s about it?”

She is fully aware that the sentence “I love you” is a fake.

Like a disguise of something worse.

She’s been walking home fast. As fast as she can. If she stops, she’ll think. Only God knows what she might think. Unlike her, she does think like everyone thinks. Even about death, cause that’s a hot topic.

It was a sign of relieve as she came home and no one was there. Today she knew that the other one would not come home. Or might be never. But she didn’t care. Or did she?

A ring. It’s not from the door, it’s her cell phone. She quickly baffles her handbag just to reach for the end of that ring. She sees who’s on the call. It’s not her. Good. Because if it is her, she will have to wait for three seconds more.

It’s Nancy.

“Hey, what’ sup…”, she answered the call.

“Sorry, wrong number. I remember I didn’t dial for a dead cat. Or rather, even worse, a dead cat who is not ready dead yet but trying to sound like he’s full of enthusiasms.”

“Sorry, you know me, boss.”, as she relieves and slowly lays her entire body on the nearest couch.

“So, I would guess for a no of this tonight party, again, as always. But hey tonight we going to have a nice rapper holding the open hipster ‘ceremony’! But then, you say “you are too old for that”.”

“…”

“Ha don’t worry I come back your place latter unless you would have a business with ‘someone’.”

“Actually, I will go to that party.”

“WHAT you like rap music? That’s new.”

“Whatever, you pick me up at 8 so stick that to your head.”

“gotcha captain.”

The phone beeped.

She frequently checks her phone. She’s waiting.

“Hey girl”

“Hey. Where we heading”

“Parrots. I thought you’d know that’s your favorite sp-“

“What! You should have told me!”

“huh what for? There’s no second chance that rapper going to land on here this goofy town.”

“… whatever”

“Hey, I’d rather not going with a growling cat yo.”

“Just go.”

“yes, girl. To the BLAST.”

The streetlight is unusually quiet. She stands there. It would be an aesthetic scene if she’s now standing here with a cigarette on hand. But she doesn’t smoke. Yet she knows more than anyone how cigarette smells like. It is a common smell coming from her balcony, in the late evening. It was. When she’s pretending to be asleep.

“Shit.” She drops a word. And like every sound happens in this hour, it soon vanishes into the hollow darkness, into where human senses would dissolve into nothingness.

“I’m surprised.” Said Nancy, who comes out of nowhere.

“what.”

“It’s been three years. Of you ditching me out on every Friday night.”

“Haha, sorry.”

“I mean, I would feel happy if you do this again. But not like this. You know what I mean, right? So now I’ll be leaving. Take my keys. I will do what you did last time. But better.” She winked.

Then the girl disappeared behind the door curtain, where the club no longer serves drumming hell, rather, dreamy jazz for who wants to take back a look for a longing partner.

It’s Jimmies’ remix.

She quickly inputs the car keys. Then for a second, she stops.

The thought also quickly floods in.

“oh no no no no.”

She hurries to charge up the keys. But then as if the night wants her to stay, the car stops. The thought of her floods quickly into her mind.

“whatever I do, I keep thinking about it. Goddammit.”

Actually, it is not it. It is her. She knows that. So well. So much that she doesn’t even bother of labeling the name. Labeling the relationship.

I mean, what does she know about her anyway? Besides the fact that she already has a person in mind. A person who is not her.

A person that might know the smell of cigarette better than her.