As the moonlight danced along the surface of the still lake, Harry lit his first cigarette in fifteen years. The first two puffs sent him into a fit of coughing, hacking, wheezing, but that third puff, oh that third puff, was nothing but nostalgic bliss.
Harry sighed with satisfaction.
She was the one who forced him to quit all those years ago.
She was the one who forced him to quit a lot of things.
She was the one was the one who forced him to stay in more, to stop swearing so much.
She was the one who told him to “focus” on his job at the company and to put aside his writing.
It wasn’t all bad though, thought Harry, reassuring himself, take this lake for example.
He smiled, his eyes dancing along with the shimmering reflection of the moonlight, this lake, this spot, in that shitty impala he had for so long.
They did it here for the first time.
Harry loved that car. Harry loved that sex.
Sadly, those were just two other things she forced him to give up.
The red glow of that cigarette grew dim as Harry’s mind stay caught in the revolving door of nostalgia, constantly entering good memories and bad.
One thought though, stopped the constant spinning to a halt.
“Oh my god” Harry thought.
“She's going to take my dog”