As X

“I’m not cut out for friends,” they thought to themself as they pulled out a loose cigarette. They’d bought it for a few dollars from a haggard old man. Smoking wasn’t something they did. They weren’t really themself anymore, though. Reckless had become almost a coping mechanism.

He’d been hesitant to share, his blue-gray eyes faded with time, his peppered beard clumped with dirt and blown with the winter wind. They wished the sight of him were novel, but every person they saw shared the same profile. The look of the street, they thought.

It was only a matter of time before it settled around their shoulders like an old friend. The only friend they’d have.

It’s hard to say when the change occurred - the shift from a human being to…this. The shadow of their former self. They thought about it a lot, but ultimately it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

They coughed as the smoke hit their lungs, eyes trained on the bright burn contrasted against the stark night. A flick of their finger sent an ember falling to the ground and they couldn’t help but be drawn in to the warmth at the end of the cancer stick.

They didn’t even think before doing what they did next. The skin screamed of pain, but they held it there - one, two, three…

…five, ready or not, here I come!

The sun was high in the sky as they raced through the trees, eyes trained for the slightest movement, ears eager for the laughter they knew would deceive him.

A deep breath filled their small lungs as they skidded to a stop, spotting a small cave. The perfect hiding spot. They crept over to the entrance, dropping to their hands and knees.

“Found you!” they called into the cave, their eyes meeting his.

“You did,” he said, his face breaking into a wide grin. He held his hand out to theirs, beckoning for them to join him. “C'mon,” he said. “Join me.”

…ten.

The cigarette fell to the snow at their feet, still lit. It sizzled as it melted the snow around it, going out.

They’d tried. In the past - they’d tried friendship. And it always worked until it didn’t. There was something broken in them, they’d realized. They either wanted too much or gave too much. Then, they didn’t give enough. They just weren’t good at it.

So they were just better off alone, really. Better for them, better for the world. They ran their hand through their hair, trying to shake the self-pity from their mind.

They stepped on the butt, just in case, and began to move. At least their body was still there for them. In a lot of ways, it was the only thing they could depend on.

They made it to the corner, greeting the women. They were beautiful in a way the world didn’t deserve. Vulnerable, striking, open. They dropped to the sidewalk, the cold cement soaking through their clothes. The sky was dark, cold, ruthless.

“Hey baby,” the sweet voice of Angel cooed to them as she walked over. “How ya doin’?”

“Good,” they said with a smile. “How’s Ty handling school?”

“Better, after your lessons,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. They always did when she talked about her kids. She was a tough kid, but those babies were her entire soul.

“I’m glad to hear that,” they replied. A car pulled up and Angel winked, pulling herself away from them.

With a sigh, they pulled out the battered notebook. There weren’t many pages remaining. They wrote smaller and smaller, trying to make the most of the space that remained.

“Hey,” a gruff voice called out. “Hey, you there, on the ground.”

They looked up, a man’s piercing eyes meeting theirs.

For months, they’d joined the girls while they wrote. It helped them, to feel less lonely. And they could help if things got out of hand. But they weren’t here for this. Sure, some of the girls had tried to talk them into it, but that was their line.

The eyes didn’t leave theirs as the man spoke again. “You coming?”

They tucked the notebook into their bag, shrugging it over their shoulder. A deep breath of cold, winter air filled their lungs, and they opened the door.