By Emanuel Boutros
She hesitantly pulls out a cigarette and puts it between her pale desert-dry lips.
“Now what?” she asks impatiently.
“Wait, not yet,” I say as I head to the power supply box. Smoke Detector #7. Snap! All the lights go out.
“Fuck!” she exclaims.
“Just wait,” I say as I grab my pliers, open the smoke detector, and start untwisting the wires.
“I don’t think I would have had the courage to do that,” she says.
“This is one of the perks of being an engineer, you get more comfortable messing around with stuff you don’t fully understand,” I reply.
I sit next to her with my lighter and push her nervous, shaking hands away to light her cigarette. Alex and I have had one of the most subtle friendships that I witnessed in my life. I’m unsure if I should even call it a friendship. Friendships, for me, are associated with other people. People who would spoil me by doing all sorts of things to show how much they care. As for Alex? She wouldn’t cross to the other side of South Campus in the luxury of her Honda to see me unless I was “having a heart attack or something.” She would also make the trek if she wanted to smoke. And so, for the one and half years we’ve known each other, once in a blue moon, fate forces us to sit together and talk about something other than the weather.
“So, how’s life?” I ask as she holds the cigarette in the most awkward position possible.
“Good, I guess—” shrugging her shoulders. “You?” To which I reply by nodding while extending my lips like a duck in the mating season, thinking that I was acting cool by mimicking her indifferent behavior.
Uncomfortable silence takes over the room faster than the growing smoke. Since we’ve been friends, our conversations are always about the same surface-level topics. Few were the times I dared asking about the reason behind the sadness carried in her expressions, but when I did, my question always went unanswered. And so, after a while, I stopped bothering.
“I just don’t know what I should be doing with my life right now.”
Stupefied, I am unable to think for what feels like eternity. This is a new prompt that I’m not ready for. I take a drag of my cigarette and exhale as slowly as possible as an excuse to gather my thoughts. Before I can utter a single word, she flings her hands in the air and strikes with a second question.
“Have you ever felt like you’re just floating through life without a purpose?” Her voice carries a weight of uncertainty.
I take a moment to let her question sink in, the smoke swirling lazily around us as if pondering its own existence. It’s a question that resonates with me more deeply than I care to admit.
“Yeah, I think everyone feels that way at some point,” I finally respond, trying to offer some reassurance. “It’s like we’re all just wandering through this maze of life, hoping to stumble upon some hidden treasure, a situation, a moment of realization that’ll make everything make sense.” Her lips curl into a half-smile, the ember of her cigarette casting a warm glow on her face.
“But what if there is no treasure? What if we’re just wandering.” She responds as she stubs out her cigarette, making its ember fade as if it was her dying passion.
“Maybe it’s the journey itself, the experiences we gather along the way, the connections we make with others,” I respond. She nods thoughtfully. The air fryer beeps, breaking whatever spell has settled over us.
“Shhickennn nuggiiiies!” she screams like a five-year-old.
“Here you go.” I hand her a plate full of her favorite piece of fine dining as I reclaim my seat.
“Thanks, Mano.”
After almost two years of knowing each other, today is the first time she calls me by my nickname.
Emanuel Boutros (he/him) ’26 is a mechanical engineering major with interests in particle physics and the mechanics of composite materials. He likes to play music, spend time with friends, and write about his daily encounters.
