POLLUTING

When the girl had returned to his place half a year later, he was sitting on the porch of the house waiting for her, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white undershirt with no shoes on. His hair was pressed by a lumpy pillow that she once knew so well and lay flatly against his ear in an obedient way. There was a new barbeque stand set up  on the front lawn that she had opposed him of buying before, whose shiny aluminum surface now shimmered under the summer sun. 

"Hey. Can I come in now?" She looked him in the eyes where he avoided by turning his head and standing up. 

"Yeah. Let's go in." He twisted the brass knob and stepped in first.

The interior of his house was almost as she had remembered it, with the rusting sink in the kitchen and spreads of unknown gravel by the entranceway. The beige carpet leading up to the second floor was still infested by smells of his ex-roommate's dog and was yellowing at the corners.

She pushed his bedroom door open and headed straight to his sliding mirror closet.

"So how have you been?" She asked while gathering up her clothes in black trash bags. 

"Uhh... the same, and you?" He was fidgeting against his wooden desk in the background that they had once assembled together.

"I've been good too." She replied and turned around, shooting a gaze towards his direction once more. "You've been smoking, haven't you."

"What are you talking about," He moved his eyes to the wall all of a sudden and announced quickly, with an emphasize on the word 'talking'. "I told you I don't smoke anymore, don't feel like it anymore."

"Okay, if you say so." She stood up and walked over to the bathroom counter and was now putting the bottles of lotion and cosmetic items into a brown box, pausing for only half a second as she glanced at the ashes in the sink. 

"I don't feel like smoking anymore, don't wanna do it anymore." He was still murmuring under his breath. 

"Well, you can smoke all you want now. No one will stop you." She was burrowing through the lower cabinets of the dresser now when a  familiar, choking smell of burning grass crept up to her nose. 

"I said I don't want to anymore! I told you I'm different now." He finally met her eyes this time but seemed to have difficulty holding the moment. He was trying so hard to keep his heavy eyelids open that they formed a deep, unnatural crease.

"Okay okay. Whatever you say. I believe you." She giggled coldly as she pulled out the remaining garments in the drawer and stacked them inside another suitcase.

"It's Sam. He always smokes. But I don't do it anymore. He always asks me." 

She kept quiet this time and took one last encompassing gaze around the room to double check if she left anything behind. Then she marched out the room with him following behind.

She paused in front of the doorway and turned around to meet his hazy eyes. He looked as if he had a stomach full of things to say but was unable to spit it out. He opened his mouth but was interrupted by her first.

"Take care of yourself." She said and gave him a polite, one shoulder hug. 

"... You too." He swallowed the rest, and the words churned in his stomach like running lava. 

She walked out the doorway without looking back, loaded her items into the trunk of her car, and as she started the engine, she sneered and thought some people never change.

Back at the porch, he sat down again and took out his lighter, looked at the rear of her car as it disappeared into the pavement.  

His face was dripping red.