Nights,Cigarettes and the piano.

The frequent trips to the terrace at night was something to look forward to. The view wasn't marvelous but once you have had
 a glance at the night sky, you wouldn't be disappointed. The two apartments opposite our building had few tales to tell in its silence. And for those who were eager to listen, they heard a murmur of wonder, habits and uncertainty.
   The man with the cigarette reminded me of two people. My grandfather would always hid his pack of cigarettes from me, although I never really know the reason why. Whenever I find him smoking or discover his secret stash, he would let out a stretched 'ayyo' and has a look of despair and regret on his face. I would scold him childishly. But  I was always confused. Was it the face I made? The one I learned from my mother when she finds dad smoking. The look had grown on me. But the meaning of it hadn't crossed my mind- disappointment? What about the days when she lets him smoke when he has had a rough day? Her face would be a mixture of compassion and pain. It makes one wonder: Does it carry away the burdens of the day or does it pass it on to the onlookers?

The room with the dusty piano is full of mystery. It breathes of life but the dead keys are desperate for the touch of its owner. And I was longing to hear it. I have looked at that piano and willed for a miracle to happen. For a figure to walk into the room,to place their tired and cold hands on the keys and to bring it to life. I have wished for the burst of music to create a impulsive pathway in the way of the undying thoughts of misery. It didn't take me long to understand the enormity of the uncertainty of my desire but nonetheless I was yearning for a stranger's music to fill the void the night had to offer.

As the tiny embers of orange flickers leave the last of the man's cigarette, you can't help but rejoice in the serenity he maintained through the end of the last touch of his lips and death. Was the roll of paper and circle of life relieving you of the terrors of the night and the inevitable tomorrow? As the man once again turned into a black silhouette leaning against the railing, without the illumination of the burning cigarette, the murmur seized. The smoke from the mouth and the dust of the piano fell prey to the unforgiving and devouring nature of the darkness of the night, removing all existence of a girl who had caved in to seek answers and went down to her room on a star-less night.