Like a good boy, I eventually make my way home to buy the tickets. I open the email from Tris and it says something about "Colours Music Festival"... alright.. "Future Islands" ok, nice... then something about it being in "Ostrava" (wherever that is). Yeah, whatever. I buy the ticket. Why is it that some of the biggest decisions we make in life are done with excessive nonchalance? I almost just gave up to my destiny in that click. Jesus, take the wheel.
I walk over to the window in the living room. Sofie and I lived in a loft. The ceiling sort of slanted downwards except for this raised area by the window. A square foot of space where two people could stand upright.
I flick my lighter and light up a cigarette. I feel some movement from behind me. Surely enough, Sofie appears. The sound of a light has become some sort of Pavlovian communication for us.
I pass it to Sofie and she tries to light her cigarette. Her hands are trembling too much and her thumb keeps missing the wheel. I motion for the lighter and she hands it to me. I light her cigarette and set the lighter on the window sill. She glances at me with her grey blue eyes and I nod in return.
We stare out.
The afternoon sun has set again and now the Northern Lights have come out. Pillars of light standing on mountains. Have a cigarette with me one day in tail end of winter in the loft in a hundred year old wooden building, with two semi-legal Thai massage parlours on the ground floor, on the main street of a desolate arctic town. It'll be one of the best cigarettes in your life.
We put them out into the shot glass on the window sill. Sofie covers it with a sink plug that we found behind the fridge one day. The embers of the butts are still burning and soon the shot glass is completely opaque. It seemed like the smoke was solid.
"I love it when things fit perfectly into other things", she said.