You hummed, smoking the last roll he had left behind. Your boy Corazon used to always smoke, cigarettes when he couldn't sleep. He'd go out, he'd disappear for an hour and a half. Sometimes you wondered what did he do when he was done with it, but he probably just flicked them on the street. You eventually headed out, replaying the memories over and over in your head. He used to always say that he quitted, he never really quit, he just said he did. You breathed the smell in, letting your mind cherish the smell of the cigarette sticking on his raggedy tee, and the taste of it on his lips, which you could taste when you kissed. You walked through the streets, silent. Ah, he always wished it was dark...But it's never really dark in L.A. The light billboards always shined on him, on you, but it changed twelve times since he went away. You flicked it out in the street as you supposed he always did, your hands reaching for another roll even while knowing that it was the last, which had grasped your phone. As you released it and kept shuffling through your pocket, it began buzzing. You took it out, your eyes widening in shock. After all these years, he was calling...? You picked up eventually, letting him talk first.

"Is the apartment still for two? I'm returning..."

He said, his voice soft and low as always.