Nine O'clock Marlboro

Nine O'clock Marlboro

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Jun 19, 2013
I placed the cigarette between my lips and searched for my lighter. Jonah came up behind me. "But why are you here?" he asked softly, as if he thought we'd get caught. I chuckled. "They think I want to kill myself," I murmured through the cigarette, now searching the side. Sure enough, my trusty white lighter was hidden deep in the pocket. Jonah had moved beside me, leaning against the white, brick side. I looked up at him, having to guard my eyes from the sun. He looked pained; he looked as if he was about to burst. I looked back down at my lighter and ran my thumb against the smooth, cool side. Be bent down next to me, taking my bogey in his long and pale fingers. Looking me straight in the eye, he whispered, "Well? Do you?" I looked down and bit the inside of my lip. I took my cigarette back and put it back in my mouth. Grabbing the lighter, I lit my nine o'clock Marlboro. "Yeah, I suppose I do."
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Summer of 2019, California. I stood outside my own door for the first time, trying to bring myself to knock. My knuckles turned white on both hands. One on the handle to my suitcase and the other fisted and hovering over the door... stagnant. Why did I think this was a good idea? I was running away from my life and my problems and that was all good and well. Until of course when I had to find out where I was running to. Unltil I have to stop and hope my problems don't just come with me. So what if I knock, what if I enter.... Then what? I don't know... I can't possibly know because I'd have to knock and find out. Now that shit's terrifying.

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