Cigarettes Out The Window

Chapter 1

The night was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city beyond my window. A warm breeze drifted through, rustling the sheer curtains, carrying with it the scent of summer rain on asphalt. I lay sprawled across my bed, a pair of old headphones hugging my ears as the familiar melody of “Cigarettes Out the Window” trickled in. I closed my eyes. The song had always made me feel a little weightless, like I was slipping between the cracks of time itself. The distant echo of the vocals washed over me, and for a fleeting moment, the world felt just out of reach. Then everything shifted.

The scent of rain was gone, replaced by the crisp, salty tang of the ocean. The air was thicker, warmer. The music still played in my ears, but it sounded different—hazy, distant, as though I were listening through layers of time itself. My eyes fluttered open. I was no longer in my bedroom.

Rolling hills stretched along the coastline, cascading into the sparkling blue of the Ligurian Sea. Colorful houses, stacked like puzzle pieces, clung to the cliffs, their shutters open to welcome the sea breeze. Sunlight painted the cobblestone streets golden, and the scent of fresh bread and citrus lingered in the air. This wasn’t New York. This wasn’t 1963. This was Cinque Terre.

My breath hitched. I had never been here before, but I recognized it from photographs. But how—

“Lost?”

I spun at the voice. A young man leaned against a stone wall, watching me with amused curiosity. His tousled brown hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it look almost golden, and his sharp green eyes held an undeniable spark of mischief. He was dressed in a crisp white button-down, the sleeves rolled up casually to his elbows, paired with dark slacks. He didn’t look like anyone from my time. He didn’t belong to my world.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Feverish and lightheaded, I felt trapped in a dream teetering on the edge of reality.

The boy pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” I murmured. The words felt foreign on my tongue. “Where am I?”

His brow furrowed slightly, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Cinque Terre. You must be a traveler.”

Chapter 2

A traveler. If only he knew how right he was. I tried to steady myself. “And you are?”

“Rudolph.” His lips quirked into a small smile as he extended a hand. “And you?”

I hesitated before slipping my fingers into his, his touch warm and grounding, “Catherine.”

Something shifted in the air between us. A quiet understanding, an unspoken recognition. As though we had met before in another life. The music still played in my ears, each note stretching and pulling time apart. I knew I didn’t belong here, that this moment would slip away as soon as the song ended. But the weight of Rudolph’s gaze, the way the sun cast a halo around him—it made me want to believe this was real.

“Come,” Rudolph said suddenly, breaking the silence. “You look like someone who could use a drink.” I should have been panicking, questioning everything. But instead, I found myself laughing softly. Maybe it was the heat, or the way the sea air curled around my skin. Or maybe it was the way Rudolph looked at me, like I was something worth discovering.

For now, I would let the music play on.

Chapter 3

The Weight Of Time

The restaurant sat on the edge of a narrow, winding street, its terrace lit by golden lanterns that flickered against the deepening twilight. The scent of fresh basil and olive oil mixed with the salty sea air, and I found myself lost in the warmth of the moment, even as my mind screamed that none of this should be possible.

Rudolph led me to a small table with a view of the water, pouring me a glass of something rich and red. “You still seem a bit dazed,” he noted, leaning back with an easy confidence. “Did you fall from the sky?” I huffed out a laugh. If only he knew.

Our words weave through the evening like a thread binding us together. He told me of Cinque Terre’s history, of the people who called it home, of his desire to see the world beyond the cliffs. And then, as the night deepened, we left the restaurant and climbed to the rooftops, where the view stretched endlessly before us. I sit atop an aluminum roof with Rudolph beside me, looking everywhere except for his eyes. I couldn’t possibly face him after saying the words I knew we were both dreading. This whole time I’ve spent here in Cinque Terre I have felt off, but didn’t have a clue why. I know something will happen in the near future, but what? I shake my head slowly, almost as if I am trying to clear the thoughts from my head.

Everything will be fine. As my mind continued to drown in the endless possibilities of our future, Rudolph cleared his throat, “I love you, Catherine. You may as well take my heart, it’s already full of you.” He mumbled, taking in a shaky breath as he heard his own words. “Please go!” I exclaimed, trying to make my emotions go away, instead announcing my thoughts out loud. I couldn’t like Rudolph the way I know my heart wants me to. I couldn’t. “What is it, what’s wrong, my dear?” Rudolph begged, hoping I wouldn't say what he knew I would. “You know nothing about me! You’ve known me only three weeks!” I muttered, my head aching almost as bad as my heart. “Three weeks? Catherine, I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve told the stars about you.” Rudolph tried, not making much progress. He cleared his throat, “I love you, Catherine.” he whispered, hoping that he could somehow change my mind.

Rudolph and I spend all of our nights on the roof in the warm July air, awaiting for something, anything, to happen. My mind wanders further away from reality, thinking of what we could be if we tried. Nothing, we would be nothing. My thoughts return back to my surroundings of the chilled aluminum roof contrasting with the sultry, ambient warmth of the evening when Rudolph broke our deafening silence. “You will live a long time yet, Catherine. An eternity without me.” He mumbled, almost as if he was afraid to admit it. At the start of autumn, Rudolph would be setting off once more on a trip across the world. Nobody truly knows how long it will be until he returns back to Cinque Terre, or for that matter, why he is going in the first place. He claims he is leaving for his studies to expand his knowledge, but will never tell anyone more than that. “You will look into the faces of passersby, hoping for something that will, for an instant, bring me back to you.” My smile gradually fades as I listen to his words, knowing that he’s right. He clears his throat before starting again. “You will find moonlit nights strangely empty because when you call my name through them, there will be no answer.” His words cut through my heart, leaving a scar that only he could mend. Ironic. I finally muster the courage to reply as I look deep into his eyes, hoping to see the slightest hint of levity. I see none. “How long will it be until you return?” I question, knowing his answer will only burn further into the wound. He looked at me, a hint of hopelessness shone in his eyes. “I won’t.”

Chapter 4

If I Asked You To Stay, Would You?

The days in Cinque Terre slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, each one bringing me closer to the inevitable. The thought of Rudolph leaving haunted my every moment, and yet, I forced myself to smile, to live in the time we had left. One evening, after a day spent wandering through the village streets and laughing at nothing and everything, Rudolph led me down to the water’s edge.