Chapter 10: The Birthday

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whew! long chapter! but it gets real interesting 😏

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"So, did you get any birthday cards?" Vic asked as I came back into the living room, mail in hand. I had insisted on getting it myself since I thought that I was capable of doing so, and luckily I was right.

I snorted at Vic's question, though. "Not to be a downer about it, but a birthday card in my situation would be a bit off. I mean, can you imagine a card that says 'Congratulations, this is your last birthday ever, go crazy while you still can'? Sounds a bit cruel." I said, faking enthusiasm.

He laughed at that. I was glad that he was always capable of laughing at my slightly cynical I'm-dying-so-whatever jokes. No one else ever quite appreciated them.

"Anyway, did you bring what I requested?" I then asked as I sat down on the couch beside Vic.

"I did, but. . . I don't know why you'd want to do this all of a sudden." He murmured as he took a packet of cigarettes from his hoodie's pocket. "I mean, it kind of sounds like a shitty idea."

I simply shrugged. "Just want to try it. I already have lung cancer anyway, what more harm could it possibly do?"

He nodded admittedly and took one of the cigarettes from the already opened packet. He told me that he got them from his brother. Vic didn't smoke himself. And I'd never done it before either.

I put the filter side of the stick between my lips and lit it up, taking a big drag and letting it run down my throat and into my lungs, Vic watching me all the while.

And then I started coughing.

"Jesus. Fuck. Ugh." I choked between coughs. I swatted my hand to my chest and threw the cigarette into the bowl that I decided to use as an ashtray. "You're right, that was a shitty idea." I admitted after my coughing had finally died down. I still felt the after burn, though.

Vic snickered a little and shook his head in amusement. "Told you." He murmured below his breath.

"I don't understand how people can get into this crap. I mean, it tastes horrible, it burns your throat, it's generally bad for you. . . I don't get it."

Vic sighed a little and put the rest of the packet back into his pocket. "I don't know, most smokers claim they started smoking due to stress. . . or it started as a pastime habit and it turned into an addiction. Either way, I personally prefer my own way of dealing with stress."

I shot him a curious look, letting my eyebrow rise slowly. "Which is?" I wondered.

"Biting on pens while writing."

I chuckled at that. Why was I not even surprised?

Most of that day was spent talking about all kinds of random things. We laughed and just enjoyed each other's company. And though I didn't treat it as it was my birthday, it was actually the best one I'd had in years. Especially since the passing of my parents. I even had cake this time. But cake was good for any and all occasions, to be honest.

And so was the alcohol. . .

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Vic and I were sitting in my garden that night. Or at least, on the patio that lead to the rest of the garden, anyway. Vic thought it was fancy because it had a bar, but said it was lame when I told him that I'd never actually used it before.

I looked in front of us, already having downed a couple of drinks throughout that evening. But this time, we were taking shots. Just for the fun of it. Vic had three in front of him and I did too. We were having a race to see who could finish them first.

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