Smoke and Mirrors
I saw my father smoking a cigarette on Tryon Street a little while ago, which was kind of odd considering that he quit smoking about 35 years before he quit breathing. But there he was, taking a long drag, making the end glow red, then he blew the smoke up into the sky. I watched it waft up in the springtime air. Watched it disappear into the clouds. And when I looked back down, he was gone.
I had not thought about my dad in quite a while. It's funny how things vanish for no reason at all.
I see people that have passed all the time on the streets, and in cars, but I have never seen my dad or my twin or my family. Wonder why. I do dream about my sister a lot.
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