I still remember the crackling sound behind that dumpster and the burning smell that followed.
It was raining, cold and windy.
Everything around us was dark except for the tobacco that lit up when I inhaled that little bit of temporary relief.
It's ironic how smoking will slowly **** you but so will falling in love with a person who doesn’t love you back.
At least one of the slow harrowing deaths comes with a nice *buzz.