The rule was not about health.
In Eden, nobody got sick, or injured.
There was no warning labels on sweet fruits, no funerals in the afternoon.
Every sunrise looked as if it had been polished before being hung in the sky.
The rule existed because smoking was unnecessary.
And in a world designed to be complete, unnecessary things were considered dangerous. They suggested a hunger for more than what was provided.
She had been smoking for eleven days.
Hiding behind the old mango groove where the gardeners rarely went.
She did not enjoy the taste, that was not the point.
She liked the small thrill that belonged only to her.
“You know they will find out.”
She dropped the cigarette, but managed to save it before it hit the ground, her thumb caught the heat.
He was standing by the side of the trail, hands folded across his chest.
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Long enough.”
She took a slow drag and exhaled, watching him through the smoke.
“You are going to report me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
His eyes were on the tiny ember. “Give me one.”
She held it out. He took it awkwardly, wary not to burn against the burn on her tumb.
“You have to inhale.” She said.
“I know.”
“You look terrified.”
“I have never broken a rule before.” He pulled in a breath. The cough hit him instantly, heavy and violent, doubling over a nearby tree.
“That is disgusting.” he chocked out, wiping away tears.
“Yes.”
He reached out. “Do you have another?”
After that they met every evening.
Two figures sitting in the long shadows of paradise, passing a cigarette back and forth while talking about things that were not supposed to exist. They talked about what lay beyond the perimeter and if there was a place where people where allowed to make mistakes.
“I asked someone once.” he said, watching the sun fold around the edges of the horizon. “Why no one leaves?”
“What did they say?”
“They just looked at me as if to say, Why would one want to?“
One evening, when the air was thick with the scent of fresh bloomed jasmine, she told him, “I love you.”
The cigarette burned low between his finger, “You should not.”
“I know.”
He turned to look at her directly, “That is the rule.”
She laughed softly, “It is not a rule.”
“It might as well be.”
They both knew what he meant.
Love in Eden was universal. Everyone loved everyone. That was the beauty of it.
What they had was different, it was speciffic and possessive.
In its own small way, what they had was forbidden.
The committee did not raise their voice, that was not how Eden functioned.
They sat in the sunlit pavilion near the peach orchards, their expression was of a mild, lingering sadness.
They explained the cigarettes had to be surrendered, the evening meetings would stop and the private conversation had to end.
No harm had been done, they emphasized. Eden was forgiving.
“What happens if we stay like this? he asked.
The committee exchanged looks of quite confusion. “Why would you choose that?”
She took his hand into hers, fingers interlocking. “Because we want to.”
The gate at the western wall was ornamental, it had never been opened. Beyond it lay nothing that resembled the garden.
He stopped at the threshold, wind catching his dark hair in swirls. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
They stepped through.
The sky outside was a bruised grey, swollen with clouds spread thin across its surface. A low thunder rumbled across the hills, deep and unsteady.
She reached behind her ear and pulled out a white cylinder, crumpled slightly at the tip.
He let out a short amused laugh, “You saved one?”
“Of course I did”
She struck the match against the closed door behind them. The stood together as the rain began to fall, sharing the smoke in the chill of the world that did not care for them.
It tasted like ash.
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