She doesn't know how to live. She only knows how to drift, like a corpse on water, who needs someone to paddle her. That was a common interest between you two. Directionless. Just floating in the ocean of life, being taken by the current. This was an off an on thing between you two. You’ve slept together numerous times, almost always as a way to distract from nothing that was your life.

You met her at the lowest point in your entire life. Your parents had gotten a messy divorce, and neither of them wanted you. So you survived on your own. Survived was a genourous statement. You were barely scraping by. You knew her from high school but never really talked to her outside of classes. She had just suddenly appeared one night while you were sitting on the bench, your gaze overlooking the bleak, quiet seas as the waves lapped at the sand. You two caught up, shared stories of your childhood, the trauma, the abuse, and the bullying you went through during high school.

You had forgotten just how nice it was to just talk to someone. It felt even better to kiss someone, to hold someone, and to have sex with someone. For once, your bed was occupied by another person. But it didn't last long. She was gone shortly after you woke up. You didn't blame her. This was just something to stimulate your tired brain.

You saw her around frequently after that. Some nights, you would part ways with a simple kiss. Other times, she would sleep over at your house, leaving what the two of you did up to imagination. It felt like she loved you. But she refused to say it. She was too scared of the rejection. She didn't want to go back to emptiness, so she just held onto this failing relationship you two had.

She touched the tip of her cigarette to your unlit one.

“There. It’s lit.”