Rogue of the Row

Smoke drifted upwards, intertwining with the branches and soon become lost in the canopy of the tree. Fen took another drag from his cigarette, held it for a moment, then breathed it out through his nose and watched as the wisps floated leisurely around then up to vanish into the darkness like the rest.

“Tell me a story about someone who influenced you greatly.”

The old words from a memory asked him again. At the time, he didn’t want to answer it. As he thought of it now and watched the length of his cigarette slowly burn, one memory came to mind. Fen leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

In his wilder days, he had such a big mouth. The rogue smirked as he admitted it to himself but knew it to be true. Often, he’d brag whenever he came out on top. It didn’t matter what, from a simple knife throwing bet to beating another in a duel. He loved showing others just how much better he was then them, got off on it in a way. Fen chuckled and enjoyed his cigarette a little more. The tip burned bright red as he inhaled, causing the ashes to eat a little more from the cigarette’s length.

“Fen, see… You’re just like this cig here,” the memory said within his mind. He could even picture the man him who had said it so long ago. An old punk who had seen his days, but one Fen secretly admired. The man was reclined back in a chair, smirking, as he showed a younger Fen a cigarette in his hands. As Fen watched, the man put the cig between his lips and inhaled. It was a thin, cheap one for it burned quickly down to the butt. He smiled and showed Fen the result. “Ya burn hot… Full of energy and brightness. But then… You’re all burned out… as fast as that.”

At the time, Fen had just laughed it off and went on. But even as time passed, he could never shake what that old rogue had said. Now though, as he watched the cigarette burn between his fingers, he wondered if he had reached that moment. He had burned hot, bright, and was full of energy. But now?