Cigarette

The first one small n swift. Followed by a long drag. A cloud of smoke bursts into the scene. The lighter slowly placed near the clock which is slowly ticking away. Its distinct mechanical sound can be heard clearly in the silence of the night. Outside cars zoom by at irregular intervals. Some people making their way home. Some more ash in the tray. It nests comfortable amongst the stubs that once caressed my lips and filled my lungs. Can hear the rustle of burning each time I pull a long drag. The tip, glowing orange in the dark. Brighter, dimming , bright again with a bitter smell and slowly inching towards me. The window closed against the cold. The air mixed smoke and the faint undertone of my deodorant. I stub it in the ash tray and glance at the clock. Its late. I crawl into the bed thinking about the day next.

Life : Six minutes less.