Existing, Not Alive

     Their lips were set in a hard line around a cigarette. Shadows of the city made their jaw sharp and their face androgynous. I don't know what it was about this human that stood out from the rest, but I stopped my meandering and leaned against the chipping brick wall beside them. They didn't notice.
     Streetlamps shone down in their respective places, not really touching the dark around them. One shone near us, but it didn't do much to light up my companion's features. I still couldn't tell if they were male or female, but something about them kind of transcended that. The streets in front of us were noisy, as always, but somehow there was this bubble of impenetrable silence about the two of us that felt like sacrilege to break. So I stood there in silence with my stranger-somehow-turned-companion as we watched the city breathe about us.
     Hours could have passed, who knows. I just studied this strange creature and they kept living within their pensive world. Suddenly, out of some unknown instinct, I broke the silence. "Can I bum a smoke?" It felt like such a careless thing to break that peace with.
     Oh so slowly, their eyes barely came to life but kept their forward stare. "I dunno. Can you?" It was more existentialist than smarmy. I went back to my silence.
     Their voice betrayed they had smoked for a long while, but still didn't betray their gender. It was within that grey area of both masculine and feminine that was oh-so-sultry. I was even more intrigued by them, but nothing could prepare me for what was said next.
     Still staring forward, their face hardened and they wondered flatly, "What's keeping me from walking right into that street?"
     I would have been shocked by how suicidal that sounded, but somehow it was clear that wasn't what they were getting at, but something deeper. My mind swirled with answers, however none seemed good enough so I kept my mouth shut.
     "What's keeping any of us?" Their cigarette properly murdered, they flicked it into the street and watched a clunker of a station wagon mow over it. Their eyebrows furrowed further and they shifted on the wall.
     My mouth felt dry, so did my tongue and lips; as if their question sucked all the moisture from my body.  I breathed a bit through my nose and gulped down the air hungrily. Swallowing felt like two rocks rubbing together.
     A bus clattered by, overly noisy in and of itself. My companion seemed stirred by this. "That bus is full of people wondering the same thing. Living without living." They finally turned toward me, the action slow and full of purpose. "Just breathing."
     I was haunted by their barely-visible eyes, just a spark in the darkness. Even without being able to see them, I knew they looked hollow. The words slipped past my lips of their own accord. "Never alive."
     Satisfied, they turned back to whatever was so interesting in front of them and slightly nodded. "Only existing."
     Suddenly, my vision wasn't so rose-coloured. I was looking at other humans in a weird light. I watched a teen across the street scurry into a worn apartment and it was obvious where it hadn't been before that they drank every night. A soccer mom sped by in her minivan and I could have sworn I could make out all the lines of age and stress across her face. A wealthy business man that looked so out of place in this part of town was waiting at the nearby light. Our eyes met and I could see the slowly-blackening soul within him. His cool face betrayed none of it. I turned to my companion and met those same haunting eyes as before and tried to understand what they were trying to say. I was right on the brink of it. Living without living. Just breathing. Never alive. Only existing.
     Thoughts swirled within my head and suddenly it was far colder than it had been before. My thin shirt didn't help. I crossed my arms over my chest and subtly tried to warm them. My companion did notice this. They regarded me with those haunting eyes for a few minutes then turned their attention to the cigarette pack they'd wriggled out of their back pocket. "I'm quitting tonight," they muttered so gently I had to strain to hear it.
     "Congratulations." I meant it, I really did, but my mind was elsewhere. They sent me a soft glare like I'd completely missed the point.
     Like the cigarette before it, the pack was tossed with a flick of the wrist into the street. And again like its predecessor, it was flattened, but this time by a shiny muscle car that sped past.
     I gulped again, still feeling those two rocks grinding within my throat. I was still cold, and I was still viewing the world with those new eyes my companion had gifted me with through their brief comments. Inhaling through my nose, I started to calm down, not even knowing I'd grown tense in the first place. My crisis was fading.
     A bus slowed to a stop in front of us, the glaring white light from within it turning everything a ghostly shade. Somehow, my strange companion's face still stayed hidden. With a small huff, they lifted themselves from the wall and meandered over to the open door of the bus. Like I'd woken up after a long dream, I finally realized how late it was and decided to race home before it got too dark. I couldn't help but spare one last glance at my new acquaintance, though.
     That's when I noticed it: faint cross-hatching up and down their frail arms. Old scars, now just raised silvery lines, but still striking in what they told. Alarmed, I met their eyes. They'd stopped, one foot on each step of the stairs inside the bus. The ghost of a smile bent the hard line of their lips for the first time that night. "Live, don't just exist."
     The doors of the bus slid closed and it lumbered away with a shriek, leaving me there mulling over those four words.