even to hold a piece of a cigarette, people be staring at you like you're a rascal.
even to buy a piece of cigarette, people be staring at you like you're depressed.
even to smoke a piece of cigarette, people be staring at you like you're nothing but an innominate kid.
aside from being given the badge of being privileged well-being, and fulfilled the standard of life, neither smoking could be the best druthers.
therefore, she went undercover, caught a paper, and rolled it into a form of cigarette. the undemanding shape.
she imagined,
she felt,
she wondered,
the great feeling that emerged when one blow smoke escaped out of the stick, thought up all the life's crises gone in a blow.
just a blow.
w/n: this is my very first writing to be poured in here, I had no idea but made some notions and words collided into a piece of writing like that. I'll be so much appreciated if anyone who sees this writing wants to give a tiny response at least. xoxo.
