(written by Sofia Barton)

Every single night, he gets his pack of cigarettes, carries a double dram of scotch and sits on his chair at the veranda beside the bedroom. He fixes his gaze at the night sky. Searching for the constellation Orion first. This time of the year, Orion rises at dusk.  It is near the western horizon now. He looks at the ‘belt’ and the four bright stars around it. His whole being gravitated to this luminous sequence. It is special to him.

He raised his glass to the constellation as if waiting for it to clink at his toast and drank half the measure. No grimace on his face. He let the liquid roll around his mouth. It tasted sweet yet firm. Like freshly baked pastries; warm, bitter like burnt crust, and sugary. He inhaled slowly. He could smell oak and sandalwood. All his senses alive at this moment, while looking at Orion.

“I’m ready to go home now. It’s a long and painful trip. But I’m ready to go back where I belong.” he says as he lights the last cigarette for the night.

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