Let's sit on a rooftop at 2 a.m. and talk.
And now we're there. Usually I don't like guests, but today we have two of them: the stars and a cigarette. You're taking the cigarette, and I'm giving you the lighter. You don't want to lit it, because we both know a simple thing: when it ends, we'll disappear.
‘Just do it', I say and get a little angry.
Nobody anwears me. Nobody listens to me. Maybe if I were a star, somebody would say me something. But I'm just a girl, who wants you to lit the cigarette.
‘Will you help me?’, finally you ask me.
I take the cigarette from you and lit it immediately. I want it to burn fast, but last long. In fact, I want many things, but first of all I want us to stay at the rooftop for a long time, not forever. We will always be together, even when we don’t exist, but for now I don’t like the idea of being here forever.
The cigarette is burning, and you’re happy. I’m smiling, too. I pull a little smoke into my mouth, and inhale it. Holding the smoke there, I remove the cigarette and pass it to you. You do the same twice: once for me, the other one for you.
You want to touch me. I read that in your face. There are many other thoughts in you face, but at the moment I don’t care about them. I take your hand. Kissing it, I’m trying to come close to you. You’re still sitting, and I’m lying on you. Now you can touch me as much as you want to. You inhale the next smoke and then tell me in a whisper: ‘Do you know that there are millions of stars in the sky?’
‘Yeah’, I say, but I don’t get you.
‘And there are millions of stars in our planet, too. We all are somebody’s star. We belong to each other. I’ve been searching for mine for 3 years. Now I guess I’ve found it’.
There is a silence. After listening to you, I understand that I’ve been waiting exactly for you to say those words.
Then you offer me to go to the stars. I don’t know what that means, but something inside me encourages agreeing. We close our eyes and try to go further, become one of the stars. Now, maybe in a dream, we’re dreaming. During it I’ve a feeling. But it can’t be explanted even if I want to do that so much. It’s just as impossible as the idea of dying when you’re a ghost or already dead.
The cigarette is about to end. We enjoyed each other, but it seems to be just a minute, no more. Frankly speaking, time goes very quickly, when we're together. Soon we'll vanish, and no one will ever know what happened today at the rooftop. This will remain our little secret, because we ourselves are a mystery.
... Let's sit on a rooftop at 2 a.m. and talk once more. Maybe next time my story will start with these words: ‘And now we’re here. Usually I don't like guests, but today we have two of them: the clear sky and a beer’.
