#9

I got home past midnight. I had a few bites of the left over sausage and finished half of the cheap sugar-free bread. I could sense Mom wanted to talk - nothing serious - just talk. I didn't have the energy to tell stories, which are mostly depressing, and all I wanted at that moment was to be comforted by an old friend.

I know with each puff I was slowly killing myself. But with each exhale, I saw my worries fly out of my window. At today's first hour: me and my friend, we were cool.

And when I could no longer tolerate the silence in my room, I turned the telly on and saw a story of a man with lung cancer. I smoked some more.