The night was chilly, even more so by the Hudson River.  Gerard sat on the far end of a bench, black hair blowing against air resistance in his face.  Yet, the 21-year-old managed to take out a lighter and place a cigarette in between his lips, igniting the end.  A whole box of them sat in his pocket.  Slowly, he took a deep puff, the taste dancing on his tongue as smoke accumulated in his mouth.  Gerard took it out, exhaling a slow breath and watching the smoke blow sideways with the wind until it dissipated.  He sighed, throwing it on the ground and stepping on it, then staring at the riverside.

Not long, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.  A girl had placed herself on the far, other side of the bench. She was wearing dark clothing, including a hat, but it was nothing more than a hoodie and jeans.  In his eyes, she couldn't have been older than 16.  Nonetheless, he studied her face: A mixture of fear and sadness, with a dash of anger.  Her eyes were fixated on the water and shoulders were tense.

Gerard stared at her for a solid three minutes before coming to a conclusion - she was afraid.  Of what?  He didn't know.  Nor, did he know if or not he should say anything.  Putting his hands in his pockets, he felt something in his left.  Bewildered, he took it out.  A cigarette labeled "Methane."  The taste of methane was strong and bitter to him.  Distasteful.  He kept it as an emergency if he couldn't afford a pack of tobacco and was in dire need of a smoke.  But, he wasn't at the moment.

He looked at the stick, then the girl.  Standing up, he walked over to her, extending the stick.  The girl's eyes caught sight of it, traveling to the man where the arm was attached to.

"Have you ever smoked?"  Gerard asked.

The girl shook her head.  She watched him pull out a lighter from his pocket and flick the gears until a flame appeared, simmering it on the cigarette before handing it back to her.

"Just suck and blow.  Don't choke on the smoke."

The girl took it, and Gerard walked away, leaving her as she puffed in, cringing at the taste, then removing it and exhaling.  She stood up from the bench.

"Do you have any more?"  she asked.

Gerard stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face her.  "Do you actually like that flavor?"

"No.  But, the sensation was relaxing."

He approached her.  "Yeah, methane sucks."

"Then, why do you have it?"

"For emergencies."

"Oh..  Well, thanks."  She was about to walk away.

"Wait,"  Gerard called, making her stop.  He reached into the pack in his pocket and took out a tobacco cigarette.  He ignited it and handed it to her.  "Try that."

She slowly inhaled, savoring the flavor in her mouth.

"Better, right?"

She nodded and exhaled.

"What's your name?"

"Jennifer.  I prefer Jen."

"I'm Gerard.  Why're you out here?"

Jen shrugged.  "Home is pretty shit.  My parents are divorced and my mom's an alcoholic.  I come here a lot just to relax and escape reality for a while."

"Huh.  That's reasonable."

"What about you?"

"I'm in college.  I come to relax sometimes."

"What're you studying?"

"I'm an art major."

"Cool.  Why'd you give me that cigarette?"

"You seemed afraid, and I didn't just want to get up and leave.  At the same time, I didn't know what to say."

Jen laughed.  "I guess it's kind of 50/50."  She inhaled again.

"I guess we both hate reality."

"Guess so."  The cigarette sizzled up.  Jen took it out and stomped on it, sighing, putting her hands in her pockets.  "I should get home, make sure my mom doesn't choke on her own vomit.  Nice meeting you, Gerard."

He smiled.  "You too, Jen.  Here."  He took another cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, handing it to her.  "One more for the road."

Jen smiled as she took it.  "Thanks.  I'll see you around."  And with that, she left.

Gerard stood, watching her for a minute before turning on his heel, departing in the opposite direction.