Nicotine Hearts

"Smoke free zone"

The first day of school was always torture for me it. I walk threw the doors of a "smoke free zone" as the signs may say. But my nose was filled with empty promises. The wrench of smoke shot up my naysal cavities and filled my lunges with its wrecked black pollution. Every breath was like a painstaking punch to the face. I couldn't handle this agonizing pain for seven hours but I went threw it.

My first smoke filled class was French , my teacher exclaimed to the class that she could not use our pity cigarettes and that she only smoked the finest cigars imported from the most exotic part of Paris and that i should feel humbled if she ever decided to let her lips touch any part of our cigarettes.She said I should feels lucky if I ever breathed her cigar smoke. Which I do on a daily basis, since she smoked more than a train.
French was suppost to be the language of love but the only thing my teacher loved was smoking.This part of my day was the best part.

Next period was with my brother who as you can guess reeked of smoke. Don't get me wrong he was a great student and brother but the only thing bad about him is the fact that he smoked. In fact 90% of my town smoked. 100% of the people I knew smoked but I did not. I was apart of that 10%. Maybe that was why I was unseen. Maybe since I didn't smoke no one took the time to talk to me.