A Smile Behind Her Cigarette

A Morning Like This

She inhales the smoke coming out of her cigarette. It is indeed a good morning. A cup of coffee, and one pack of Marlboro. The sun is still hiding behind gray clouds, giving the perfect gloomy mood. She checks the clock perched at her night desk, 5 AM it reads, but it doesn't matter. Moment like this started to become her routine after her mother left. She sips the cup of caffeine, it wakes her brain up really, she doesn't mind the way it makes her head throbs whenever she had too much of them, as long as it keeps her up and working. The smoke filled her lungs, after a moment she exhaled them, letting them infect the fresh 6 AM air. Suddenly there was a knock on her door.

                  As soon as she opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of a man with disheveled hair and crinkled t-shirt.

                  "Yes?"

                  "What's your problem Sara?" the man asked with an exasperated tone. He eyed the cigarette dangling between her fingers with a loathing stare. She walked to the window and let the smoke out.

                  "If only there's one Greg, I would love to tell you but you wouldn't want to spend you next week with me."

                  "I've told you," he entered the apartment, "I don't like the smell of those motherfucking stick of cancer, it's not healthy."

                  "Oh cut the crap, Greg, Judging by the look of your hair you look like you need one."

                  "Oh and received a lung cancer? No thank you," He spat impatiently. 

                  "Why are you sleeping with your window open anyway? No one does that, what if someone sneaks in and stole your things or kill you in your sleep huh?" She took out another stick of cigarette and started to light them up.

                  "First of all, I don't need a murderer to sneak into my house, your smoke is practically killing me, I am here a passive smoker you see?"

                  "Whatever"

                  Greg let out a frustrated groan and plop down on the sofa across her. It gives her a chance to study his state of physical condition. Greg Fabian is her annoying neighbor; they've been fighting for 3 months over this subject. Greg had a light-brown hair and a lean body. If it weren't for his irritating lectures of health, Sara would've liked him.

                  "Why do you smoke anyway? You weren't like this months ago," he asked softly.

                  "When you are motherless you tend to do shit like this, Greg. Trust me one day you'll know, people don't live forever."

                  She throws her unfinished cigarette and folded her arms, "Happy?"

                  He only gives her a stare, and sighed. "You haven't answered my question."

                  She tapped her fingers on the table, hands itching to hold the death stick. She never thought about why she smoked, it was a thing that keeps her sane actually. Releasing her frustrations on the stick. Keeping her feet to the ground.

                  "You see Greg, you can't help it but addicted to something that makes you forget the pain." And silence ensued.