Mini Memoir.... a prompt from Red Dress Club (on smoke)

The silence was so defined, so loud that you could almost hear the whispering trail of smoke as it rose from the end of a single burning cigarette. It climbed slowly up and out, peppering the room with its subtle acridness as a low note began to reverberate from the piano.  All eyes and a sharp-edged spotlight were focused on a tiny dark stage alive with intensity. She raised her smokey eyelids, placed a stiletto heeled foot on a bentwood chair, and began to sing. Rich tones reached deep into my very soul, warming but taunting me. It said this could be you. This stage and this audience, bent on every flick of her wrist and change of note, could be yours. The song tore a hole into my heart and freed precious memories of those past performances, those too few moments when I felt truly alive.  

And then SHE kicked me, the feeling deep within. My unseen but already cherished little girl moved to cover the hole, to fill my void with a new purpose. I moved my hand across my swollen belly and bit back my tears and opened my smokey eyelids. My stilettos were firmly on the floor and my voice silent, the audience was not for me but still, I felt alive. HER voice, as silent as that whispering trail of cigarette smoke gave me new life.

This week's prompt was based on a picture of a burning cigarette in an ashtray.