Story from 130904

writing story

published 1970-01-01 00:00

updated 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 130904 00:00

Yesterday was the first time I found a cigarette in my son's mouth. It's been several years since I've seen one of those, their orange glow still as inviting as I imagined them to be. While it was a long time ago, it feels like just yesterday I'd discovered my new best friend could be bought in packs of twenty. It was only the day after that I tried getting used to keeping them in my mouth or else I'd start figdeting. I think it was then the smell started to appeal to me, and not soon after even the taste described to me it's feelings of enterity. Was it the day after that I quit? Seeing them now is like visiting a friend from the past. Sure, occasionally it occurs to you that your best friend is a just a flight away, and you could really go for a scotch, but most times idle banter is all you'll ever manage. The faded memories you shared together are reminiscent of a time that is bygone. As you leave though, you're sure to turn around, sure to smile a warm smile, but it doesn't contian the same affection it used to. That's how I felt as the faint orange glow was crushed on the side of the street.