At his apologies, she shook her head. "It's not a problem," she said. "My...fiance was a smoker." Maybe he still was, if there was the chance that he was still alive. It was so strange. For years, Gina had dreamed that Edward was still alive. Now, faced with the possibility of that dream becoming reality, she found it to be a nightmare.
As he removed his cigarette, she glanced down at his fingers, idly watching them. As he rolled the cigarette in the expert, almost careless motion, her heart stopped.
Edward had done that.
She watched him do it a thousand times, and was always amazed that he didn't drop it. Every time was like seeing it brand new, and every time was a small thrill. It was like a piece of stage magic that never grew old, never grew tired. She always wondered how he never dropped it or burned himself, and despite the fact that she felt the sudden urge to vomit and cry and run, she found herself wondering that very same thing in the back of her mind.
Her face drained of color, and her hands went slack. The glass of water she held fell to the floor, landing on the carpet and spilling forward. Eyes wide, she stood up quickly. Her hands shook as she tried to look everywhere but the cigarette. "I-I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm...I'm not feeling well..." Her heart skipped several beats as she took a few steps back, knees knocking. "May I just...use your restroom for a moment...and then I'll clean up the water, I-I'm sorry."