Smoking

by nat213

I pick my cup off the garden table. The coffee smells rich and strong. I sip it, feeling the caffeine start to power-up my nervous system. Replacing it, I gently crumble sleep from each eyelash, blinking. The neighbor’s dog trots into our garden, looking for a morning toilet. I growl aggressivley. It jumps, yelps and flees back through the hole in the fence. Crystal blue sky, cool air and autumnal smells. Leaves, sweet with decay, have started to litter the grass. Cigarette smoke unclenches in the morning stillness just like it did every school day at the bus stop. I entered adulthood with dissident lungs and a 20-a-day habit. Years of cigarette butts squashed underneath the soles of my Converse. The  taste of tabacco turns my mouth stale. I consider brushing my teeth. Must remember to buy mints. It’s about 10 degrees out here and it looks like this is as warm as today is going to get. Summer is on the turn

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