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She sighed and shook her head. She was leaving those problems in the city. From here on out, she was just going to focus on the present.
She was going to help her family clear out her hoarder great aunt's house, and after that she'd face what was waiting for her. Who knew, maybe everything would blow over by the end of the month.
"Please. Take one. I can't stand it anymore." The old woman offered up a cigarette again.
"I don't--" Julie said, but the woman shook the package in her face.
"Then it'll be a new experience. Here."
She knew she shouldn't. It was a filthy, disgusting habit that was laughably out of fashion. And still...
The lady was just so insistent.
She plucked a loose stick from the package, then surveyed it for a long moment. "My first cigarette."
"If you keep sighing and shaking your head like you've been doing, it won't be your last." The woman fished some matches from her purse, and then struck one. "Now come here, beautiful people don't light their own cigarettes."
Julie smiled, tucked the thing between her lips and leaned in. The white paper singed orange and black for a moment while thin wisps of smoke trailed from the tip. It was like she was a detective in an old Hollywood movie.
She held the cigarette between two fingers like she'd seen on television when she was a kid, and then dragged in one long, slow breath.
And promptly burst into a fit of coughing. Tears stung her eyes and she reached for the seat in front of her, bracing herself as she leaned into the aisle and nearly gagged.
"Kids today," the woman beside her mumbled, then took another long drag on her own cigarette.
Julie laughed despite herself, and then straightened, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I've just got to get the hang of it. You were new at this once, too."
"I suppose." The old woman shrugged. "Just do me a favor and don't look at that damned phone again. If I have to keep watching you, there will be no cigs left for my husband when I get home."
"That's probably a fair deal." Julie nodded.
"What'
s so important that you can't put the damn thing down, anyway?"
Julie winced. "It's nothing. Work stuff."
"And what is it you do...what's your name, by the way?"
"Julie Hamden," Julie said.
"Irene Carter." The old woman tipped her head, though her curls stayed perfectly in place. "So what do you do, Julie?"
"I...was an assistant at a fashion company." She thought of her desk. Her perfect, beautiful chic desk with the clear glass top. She'd only gotten it last week. She'd barely even gotten to use it...
"You were?" Irene pulled on her cigarette. "So, what are you now?"
Fucked.
"I'm...between positions." And boyfriends. And lifetime dreams.
"I see." Irene nodded. "Well, if they got rid of you--"
"They didn't exactly get rid of me. I kind of sort of quit." And threatened to burn the building to the ground. And may or may not have done some truly heinous things to her ex-boss/ex-lover's office.
"So, why are you still answering their messages?" Irene asked.
"It's...a long story." One she couldn't think about right now. Or maybe ever.
