A sinfully dark night the street lamps do their best to give the night a glow, or something cliché like that. The end of my cigarette, the bright end, lights up my hand and possibly my face. The smoke enters, tars, sticks, clouds these ways, I exhale. The smoke rises then to do what most things do, it vanishes into the darkness. I know it’s time, or so I believed, time to quit this damn habit. I flick the butt into the street, hopefully for the last time. The cherry explodes and disappears.

Somehow the alarm cuts through time and space, into my dreams. I wrestle the with the fire, but the sound cuts in and cuts off everything. I slam my hand down hard onto the snooze button. I wipe the sleep off my face and throw the twisted sheets off.  I can already feel the want, the urge to go outside, to do something. I stretch the feeling off and make myself some tea. I feel the absents as the kettle squeals. Everything makes far too much noise. My finger taps on the counter top as the tea brews, holy fucks, it feels like forever. The tea finishes and I sit sipping it trying hard not to acknowledge the coming misery.

I beat the alarm to the punch before it goes off.  In the shower, I make the plan that enough is enough and I need a cigarette. I dry myself off and collect my things. The drive to the closest connivance store is uneventful but pleasant.  The thick bullet proof glass is  perfectly clean, so clear that it’s hard not to miss the attendant’s abhorrence for me or anyone. I say my brand, and with some pointing and waving the pack is removed from the shelf. He mutters the total so much that I have to read it off the register. I go to pull cash from my wallet but there is nothing there, nor is my debit card or anything that could be used to purchase anything. I bite my lip hard, it feels as if the skin will burst open, closer and closer to the point, but just then, at the point of no return the attendant asks me something, of course, I have no idea what he said. I apologize and say I forgot my other wallet and nearly sprint out of the store. I drive back home disappointed and deflated.  I sigh as I start the kettle again.

The alarm goes flying against the wall. I don’t recall the motion but once the sound stops I feel better. I pull myself once more out of bed, once more into this shithole. The water to the shower is too cold. I knick myself shaving, I rip the end of my shoestring as I tie my shoe. I curse over and over again. I skip the tea and have a beer or two. Sulking in my armchair the want, no, the need to go outside, to smoke, to maybe breath again  is strong and repetitive. I drink more and more. “My bank isn’t far.” I think over and over to myself. I picture myself getting the money, everyone is smiling, everyone is so happy that I can smoke.  I smile. I don’t even lock the door as I stride off to my bank. The late summer air is warm but not hot. I can smell the trees the birds, I feel great. I keep thinking of the smoke inside me, how great it would feel. The bank is practically empty as I walk through the expensive glass door. The girl behind the counter has a bright smile and ocean like eyes. I feel bad now, for yelling. She tells me the account is on hold. At first, my voice is calm, but I remember all the smiling face, the smoking, the outside. I yell water begins to form on her ocean eyes. A manager comes up, or well someone in a suit. I explain everything, in return, they explain everything. For one second, maybe two, the thought of robbing the place crosses my mind but quickly and thankfully disappears. I collect my ID and walk out the expensive doors.

The alarm doesn’t work anymore, I wake-up far pass the time I planned on. I breathe in,  the air fills me. I stretch and yawn. I make my tea, it tastes better than ever before. I feel amazed at how much better I feel just after a small amount of time without smoking. I sip on my tea, and slowly the whole thing washes over me. I finish my tea and collect my device. I stand above myself tossing and turning, it’s still dark. I watch myself wrestle with the dream before I remove the cash and the cards. I smile at my sleeping self and go back.

I stand in the middle of my living room with the smile on my face and the cash in my hand. Almost like a tidal wave, I think about smoking, how the money is right there in my hand. I grasp the cash and cards harder and harder as I have the argument in my head. I move towards the door then away from it. Torn I put the pieces of me into my armchair. I weigh the pro and then the cons, damn those cons. I pull out my device and the room disappears once more.

The expensive doors to the bank feel smooth and clean under my palms. The girl with the ocean blue eyes smiles at me as I make my way across the lobby. I put the hold on my account for two weeks and removed enough to survive. I tell them some half-baked story that I’m pretty sure they didn’t quite believe either. I shake hands with the manager. Just before I leave I lean in close to the girl with the eyes of oceans. “I’m sorry for anything I say after this point…” I turn and walk out through the expensive doors.


1 comment on “Smoking.”

  1. Random

    Hahaha love it! We are our own worst enemies and yet best friends.

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