Nicotine

8

As the days passed with you, I found less of a use for my Camel box.

But when I was alone, a thick fog would envelope me like a second skin.

This was one of those nights.

I felt the ash burn deep into my chest with each breath in I took, blowing it out like a dragon breathing fire.

"Your turn mate."

I pick up my pool stick and slouch back over to the pool table, assessing the situation before I finally took a shot. The ball sunk into a pocket effortlessly.

My partner, a man in his forties with a beer belly and an unshaven face, tilted back his ratty Sox cap to scratch his head. "Man, why did I wager again?"

I smiled. "Because you can't help yourself, Max."

He grumbled something back as I set up my next shot.

"So who's that gal you've been hangin' round with?"

My hand wavered as I went in to take my shot, sending the ball to veer off into a different direction. Max grinned with glee before taking my spot at the table.

"No one." I said.

"Shame. She's mighty pretty."

I shoved his shoulder, making him laugh and me light another cigarette. "She's too young for you."

"I don't know; I'm pretty popular with all types of ladies." He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "Maybe put in a good word for me, hey? Any man would be lucky to get a piece of-"

I grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him up the side of the wall.

"Woah, man-"

"Don't you ever talk that way about her again, or I'll shove that pool stick up where it really hurts. Understand?"

I didn't wait for a reply. I didn't wait for him to fish out the fifty he owed me. I just grabbed my coat and took a drag of smoke into my lungs, spinning on my heel and disappearing into the shadows where I belonged.