Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight nor the song entitled Coffee and Cigarettes by Augustana.

Coffee and Cigarettes

"I'm sure you've lost that weight again, and
I'm sure the pills keep pouring in.
Like smoke that falls, it's caving into you.
So put me on a plane, fly me to anywhere,
I said put me on a plane and fly me to anywhere, with you."

We're all running someplace.

Some people just don't know exactly where that someplace is.

Leah happened to be one of them.

She traveled everywhere, sampling every kind of life God had created. She ate up the world like it was a feast just for her. There was a fire in her eyes back then.

Now…I don't know what.

She's different.

There are shadows in her eyes like years past. They swim with bridled tears that threaten to mottle her beautiful face.

I know something has happened, but she's refused to phase. Refused to share whatever burden that was placed upon her shoulders. She was always stubborn like that…

I walk into her one room apartment, sweet and bitter smoke roiling through the air.

She's sitting in her arm chair, hand dangling in the air with a cigarette between her pointer and middle finger, smoke clawing up her arm.

Glass pipes sit in corners as if inconspicuous, still warm from her lighter's earlier flame.

A mug of freshly brewed coffee sits at her side, steaming on top of some book I can't catch the name of.

And then there's the orange bottle next to her cup, standing there like a beacon.

I don't say a word, even though there are still vowels and consonants lingering in the air for my perusal, the silence isn't awkward and so I keep it.

She's watching Jeopardy.

"This writer penned Breakfast at Tiffany's in 1958."

Her hand pulled away from her mouth for a moment, smoke trailing from her lips.

"Truman Capote."

The buzzer rang and the contestant answered, "Who is Truman Capote?"

Alex Trebek congratulated the woman and when I turned back to Leah, I swore I saw her smile.