Is it wrong to ask someone not to leave?

Today was one of those onereos days languishing in stifling summer humidity, beer, dark pub corners and many cigarillos later merely shadowed the inevible. Re-discovering what it's like to be effortless in dependency, walking slightly ajar with alcohol streaming through my veins and perfumes of others dancing beneath my nostrils.
No, I'm not a lesbian thanks as you look at me gingerly, I've become so asexual in a society of stereotypes.

I bought a shard of quartz crystal, why not, it's something I don't need.
The girl who wrapped purple tissue paper round my rock had an exceptionally calm sense, we locked eyes and I saw something.
She stared at my card once swiped through, I read her name tag, we looked at each other again,
"Jenny, Jenny Thomson...?"
she smiled,
"did you go to Arncliffe public ...."
"yes I did... you're .... "
There was a pause that punctured waterfall and languid tolling of Buddhist bells, lines in the palms of our hands crossed paths and every nuance permeating through amethyst haze, we connected.
My heart fell 50 storeys.

The eftpos machine started printing.

"Thank you very much"

I nodded and walked out, crystal tucked into a recess of a well-worn army bag salivating with tobacco resin.

Jenny was the girl I went with to my school formal, we weren't suppose to go together, but Margaret changed her mind and I was too shy to ask jenny in the first place. But as fate would have it, I ended up with a bunch of hastily broken flowers at her doorstep.
We drank fruit juice and did some english country dancing where we would skip in circles of friends and exchange, then go round to only link back together again.
Elipses of youth opening and closing our childhood.
As I sat drinking coffee on the corner of the world, I picked up remnants, histories and that heart which writhed on crackling asphalt with one hand the other on a cigarillo it's lines blurring away into apathetic smoke.
Empty faces and hastily stuck on references all dissolving into fading pulses.

My mother wants me to quit smoking, my father tells me it's upto me to decide, he quit because of us not for himself.

"he's lonely, that's why he's smoking again, are u lonely son?"

"can't quit what wont let me go"