I always liked the American word for autumn. Fall. It brought to mind a picture of brown leaves falling picturesquely. But the few trees I saw from my balcony were green. Only a few leaves were yellow. And the plants in my balcony seemed to be dying. Oh, that must be because I had forgotten to water them. And there were cigarette butts in the pots. Oh well, if the previous tenant had wanted them they wouldn’t have left them behind.
I had been saving my last cigarette because I was feeling too lazy to go out for replenishment, but the sight of those cigarette butts proved too strong for me. I lit up and tried to recollect the events of last night.
I realised that those cigarette butts couldn’t be mine. I had spent no time in the balcony last night, and they certainly hadn’t been there yesterday afternoon.
Mark had spent almost the entire evening on the balcony, with Leila. That was why I had drunk so much, torturing myself wondering why he had come only to avoid me and flirt with Leila. Wishing everyone would go so I could give way to my self-pity. But I was the host and I downed cocktails and laughed loudly and danced till my head throbbed.
I finished my cigarette and was about to shove the butt into the pot. But instead I flicked it over the balcony and leaned over to watch it fall.
(Written as an exercise for Caferati with the subject "fall")