"Destiny is what you choose" is an overrated statement. You don't necessarily get what you choose; you don't always become what you want to be. A cigarette 'butt' never chose to be a 'butt'. It never wants to be thrown away nor does it love to be smashed and torn. Once highly-demanded cigarette is destined to become ashes and 'butt' that ends up in the soil. It never chose its unfortunate destiny. No one ever wants to store a useless cigarette butt. But, she did; though a non-smoker she is, she saved it as if her life was in turn preserved inside it. It followed her wherever she went. There was an unknown, unseen bond between her and that cigarette butt. That butt which carried a unique odor that only she could recognize - the odor of her man.
Every time she meets him, she collects a cigarette butt and replaces the old one. All she wanted was the fresh odor - of her man. Each replacement would be a compassionate farewell. Flower bouquets, funerals and goodbyes - the cigarette butts had peaceful deaths.
5 replacements down. She waited for the next replacement.
Weeks passed by. Months and then years. The last cigarette butt hasn't been replaced yet. The butt wore off, so did she. Their companionship has now become a wait for the replacement. The odor has all gone now. The left over was just a recall to the past. They both waited - the cigarette butt for a peaceful death and the lady, for the same.
Never did the cigarette butt know that it wouldn't ever be replaced. Nor did she realise that she, the one who treated the cigarette butts he left as how she would treat him, for him, was just a cigarette butt.
Their lives halted and his moved on with so many cigarette butts smashed in the soil.
5 replacements down. She waited for the next replacement.
Weeks passed by. Months and then years. The last cigarette butt hasn't been replaced yet. The butt wore off, so did she. Their companionship has now become a wait for the replacement. The odor has all gone now. The left over was just a recall to the past. They both waited - the cigarette butt for a peaceful death and the lady, for the same.
Never did the cigarette butt know that it wouldn't ever be replaced. Nor did she realise that she, the one who treated the cigarette butts he left as how she would treat him, for him, was just a cigarette butt.
Their lives halted and his moved on with so many cigarette butts smashed in the soil.
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