Pall Mall

About just an hour ago, she ran through the hallway of the hotel.

Her nearly broken high heels nearly tripped her over.




Pressed on the up button, she leaned on the wall to catch some breath.

She hasn't packed up her luggage yet, she's doomed.




She took her purse out as she waited, looking at the cigarette butt she forgot to ditch away.

Pall Mall. Not her brand.




Now here she was, at the terminal, watching at the airplane numbers running on the tv screen, with her luggage and exhausted colleagues all by her side. 4 am. Her plane would soon start to board.

She still have that cigarette butt in her purse, carefully wrapped up in a tissue.

"Where the hell have you been?" Her colleague asked when she fiddled the tiny tissue fold in her hands. "Thought you wouldn't make it. Left something in the room?"




"Ha. You got me, right."

Sure, she did left a lot of things back in that hotel.




They didn't dance. They didn't flirt. They didn't even drink that much.

Sharp suit, slick hair, half-frame glasses.

He's got all the look of a professional, and he indeed talked like one.

But his smile gave it away. That's a smile too pure for that conference hall.




The air was fresh around him.

He lacked of those stinks of cooper and high-hat,

unlike all the other men approached to her with way too explicit intention.




The way their jokes piled up on each other's,

the rolling tongue of his, when he cursed in Spanish as they laugh at silly jokes,

and that pair of shimmering, smiling eyes.




Do you smoke?

Men wouldn't ask women that if back in her country.

But he just asked that with a wide grin. So naturally, so carefreely.

Do you want to go out and smoke for a bit?




She left the luggage, saying just going for a stroll,

but the fact was she only changed a place to stare at the air.




Pall Mall was the brand he smoked. Blue.

He offered her one, lighted it on for her.


Not as heavy as her red Marlboro,

but it did taste very smooth.




He was a funny one. Too kind. Saying sorry to her even for the smallest thing.

She thought he was silly,

until he draped his suit coat cover her with a serious face,

even after she told him she was not cold.

Who did he think he was?




She frowned. The passengers on the plane were mostly asleep.




Under the dim street light in the darkness, he smiled at her with his hair ruffled.

As if looking at something that would satisfy him, that would bring him joy.

I like you,

His fingers caressed on hers when they remained interlocked.




Who did he think he was?




It was just something silly, under the effect of the city light.

But in that sense,

how would the familiarity be explain,

when they looked into each other's eyes and laughed?

how would the nostalgic feeling be explained,

which she felt as soon as their lips met ?




I don't wanna make you miss your flight,

He said.

So tell me if you wanna go.




No answer did she provide to him. She only covered his lips again with her own.




Just shut.

That was what she was thinking,

Don't say that. Don't let me go.




Say you want me to stay.




I'll dispose of that for you,

Before they took the Uber, he held out his hand to her.




It's fine; I haven't had it enough.

She rejected with a smile, even though the blue Pall Mall is nearly burning to its end.




Many hours left to fly. And his message was still lying quietly in the inbox.




It shall all pass.


Like the warmth he left on her skin with his lips,

and the smoke and fragrance his blue Pall Mall left in between her fingers.




It shall all pass.




This too, shall pass.