Why I won't quit smoking

Posted by Tuesday on January 19, 2002 at 16:43:28:

It was snowing today. I had to work. I slept through my alarm, slept through my wake-up call. I made it in a half hour late - half asleep still. Two hours into my day, I took my first break. I have two choices on break - I can sit in a tiny break room and make uncomfortable conversation with whomever happens to be there, or I can go outside and have a cigarette. No sane, non-smokers would go outside and stand in a snow storm. I don't claim to be either.

I slip out of the side door of the building, and take refuge in the alcove of the next doorway. I light up a cigarette and look around. Large, playful, snowflake clumps were falling, thick as an old sweater. Won't last much longer, I think, remembering I've been told the larger the flake, the faster it passes.

People shuffle quickly inside the building for cover, heads bowed to avoid a stray flake falling on their sullen cheeks and adding a hint of glee. A clump of mingled flakes plops on my head. It goes straight to my scalp, and begins to melt. I laugh as the water streams down my face. White all around me, walls of it. A face looks up towards me, then bows again as the owner quickly makes their way inside, less too much snow lands on them and weighs them down in their hurry.
The bells of the church down the street begin to chime. What are they playing? Is it Come All Ye Faithful? It seems I'm missing every third note, so it's hard to tell. I stand in the midst of the snow, and listen to the two notes I can hear, imagining the third at it's turn.

I look down at my cigarette. Ah well, time to go inside.

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