//TW: death, smoking, and slight mention of a bar. I wrote this when I was going through a rough patch and wasn't in the best headspace. Here we go//

Death lit a cigarette when he stopped for me.

He reached for it from his void-like cloak, pulling it from the mass of black, and rolling its papery form between numb fingers.
He lit it, the end bursting into life with a fiery orange glow as the tobacco burned into nicotine magma.
Pinching it between bone and joints, he inhaled a desperate, sucking breath, before letting the grey smoke in curled tendrils between his teeth.

Death lit a cigarette in his gnarled fingers, and leaned back comfortably, carelessly flicking ashes to the ground.

His spine, swathed in shadows, made contact with the stone wall of the old, forgotten bar.
Its lights were forever turned off, the windows dark as the building remained in an eternal sleep.
He felt the cold bricks against his back, and felt the light kissing rain grace his skull as it bid him good night.

Death looked my way that night, his cigarette ember-less for a short while.

I offered him a purple lighter that caught the gleam of the street lights, its hues reflected in my tired eyes.
He gratefully accepted it, watching as the flame danced to the beat of the rain and the bass line of my shoes on the pavement.

He offered me a cigarette, and I kindly declined.

Death lit a cigarette when he stopped for me.

He held it between his grinning teeth, taking a breath, as he forced the ember to flicker into life again.
We spoke of many things that night; of friends, of foes, of places travelled, and those that spurned and yearned for us.
We laughed, and we cried, each glance telling a story of their own and disregarding our spoken words.

Death looked towards the morning sun that morning, and put out the cigarette.
He discarded the mangled filter in a glass ash tray.
He left me at dawn, with a kiss on my bruised, sleepless eyes, before fading into daybreak.

A teasing scent of smoke lingered on my scarf, as I stumbled back home, wondering if I would ever return his kiss.