Clouds Of Smoke… The Story. Gianluigi Ciaramellari

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ took a puff.

      He took such a long one and he inhaled so much of it that he was afraid he would fuse the battery. He found satisfaction, yes, and decided to put the package back in his jacket pocket.

      “For now I can resist”, he thought. He saluted his image in the window of the bar, someone inside probably thought that the greeting was addressed to him, but Massimo turned away and continued walking, pleased with himself for not giving in to the tobacco industry.

      Shaking his head he resumed walking, he decided that a walk would have relaxed him; he would continue to vape his electronic cigarette on his way home. Once he got home he would put his cigarettes on top of a closet, perhaps he would toss them up there, no matter where they ended.

      The taste of tobacco which he was savouring was not bad indeed, it had a pleasant aromatic aftertaste; it didn’t give him bad breath, it satisfied his desire for nicotine and the steam coming out of his mouth was even whiter and more dense than that of a cigarette.

      A cat crossed his path, passing almost over his feet, and hid in a garbage can. That morning the market had taken place on that street. Several cats were busy rummaging through papers and other debris, even food, spread across the ground. In the distance he saw that the vans of the garbage collectors were already arriving, to clean up the street and the plaza.

      The black cat reappeared putting his nose out from his hiding place, staring at Massimo with a look of defiance, his eyes were green like Damien’s, and he made a gesture with his paw that seemed an invitation, “Come here if you dare!” it seemed to say.

      But it wasn’t a challenge. The cat had something under his paw, something made of paper and on which was imprinted an image, a five-pointed star, like Damien’s earring, but it didn’t shine.

      Massimo approached the cat, leaned over and was surprised to see that... Beside the star with five grey tips, was impressed the number 50. He had found fifty euros! Wow, the same amount he had spent in Damien’s store! He picked it up promptly, heedless of the cat who ran away quickly, without asking for a reward.

      Part five (stop the clock!)

      Sonia had just left the Doctor’s Office; the results of her tests were not good at all. Her hands were trembling from the sudden feeling of weakness; she almost fainted before those papers on which her destiny was written. Inexorably.

      “First of all you need to stop smoking immediately, - the Doctor admonished her severely – your habit can’t win over your will, we’ll try every possible treatment to slow down the progression of the tumour”.

      These words echoed over and over in Sonia’s head; her thirty-four years of age had become as heavy as boulders, perhaps they contained all her life and maybe in another life, she would have lived longer. She felt old and out of place, all around her she could only see the uselessness of it all.

      What good had her commitment to her University studies done her, or the job she had recently undertaken as an architect, designing homes that would live longer than she would, even from their foundation stage, or the job that promised her a successful future?

      Then there was love. She put her love life on hold in order to study and now that she was finally exploring this new world together with her new boyfriend, her time had expired. Everything expired. Time had expired, beauty had expired, pleasure had expired, and she was running out of life.

      From behind the counter of the store, Damien saw Sonia, still standing in front of the window of the Doctor’s Office, which was just across the street from his store. He looked up from his laptop and took a better look at the girl.

      She also looked up from those condemning papers, she looked at her Breil watch which indicated a stupid and useless nine o’clock in the morning and while looking around her, she met Damien’s gaze. Although the shop windows were a little obscured, the interior light brightened and allowed her to see inside even from a distance. Sonia had a perfect vision of Damien who got up from behind the counter and started walking towards the door. A sign, the kind with colourful LED letters, lit up in the stained glass window of the store, the LEDs lit up and began chasing each other, reading: “Open”.

      A flash of lightning followed by a long loud thunder, tinted the lead grey cloudy sky with blue-violet for a moment. To Sonia it seemed that it had always been that colour. Now she couldn’t even imagine a different colour than the “Fifty shades of grey”; yet her life, unlike the film, had not been erotic at all.

      The weather promised rain soon, the air was particularly electric. The wonderful spring weather of the day before seemed a distant memory. On television she had heard that there would have been yet another return of winter weather. Perhaps one last sprinkle of snow, even at low altitudes.

      Sonia crossed the street as soon as the predicted rain started to harshly pour all over her. Covering her head as best as she could with her cellophane covered medical records, she ran straight towards Damien’s shop door, quickly opened it, walked in and felt a welcoming embrace that she gratefully accepted.

      “Thank you, excuse me!” she said to the man that let her in from the rain.

      “Don’t worry, - he answered, kindly - you’re welcome to stay here until the rain settles down, it’s no problem”.

      “Thanks again, but I don’t think it will stop soon!”

      Damien ushered the girl to one of the two armchairs in the store, which he used for customers in line or for those who stopped by for a chat, which happened often. He sat on the second chair, never taking his eyes from Sonia.

      She was a beautiful girl, blonde with a modern short haircut, tall and thin, with the right curves in the right places, she could be a model, with her graceful movements and tone of voice. She was wearing a suit, black jacket and pants with a white silk blouse, a little unbuttoned, she wore high heeled pumps which enhanced her ankles and well-shaped feet.

      Her hands were beautiful, Damien watched as she rested them on the arms of the chair; he would have liked to take them into his, to feel their softness. Surely she had a rare beauty about her.

      “Is this an electronic cigarette store?” Sonia asked to break the ice.

      “Yes, - said Damien bringing his eyes back to hers - one of the many that have been opened over the last three years here in Florence”.

      Meanwhile, it was really pouring rain outside.

      “I have seen some of them - said Sonia - but I never stopped to ask for information on these articles, maybe I should have…”

      She put her hand on the clinical records.

      “I don’t want to take advantage of this occasion to sell you something - Damien interrupted her, standing up – instead, may I offer you some coffee? I was just making one for myself”.

      “That’s very kind of you, - Sonia nodded – but, do go ahead, maybe I’m interested in the topic, you can tell me about it in the meantime.”

      Sonia’s frankness was disarming. Damien was fascinated by her and while he prepared the coffee with the electric coffee maker he kept in his shop and then, while they drank the two cups of coffee, he improvised an explanation of the e-cig that was brief, clear and comprehensive.

      It was obvious that Damien wasn’t very interested in Sonia as a new possible customer; rather he СКАЧАТЬ