I took a drag from my cigarette, watching the cherry glow that shade of reddish orange that you can only see on a lit cigarette in the middle of the night. The white smoke formed a ribbon as it twisted and snaked its way towards the ceiling. I felt guilty and a little sad.
I shouldn’t have smoked it, I promised myself to quit. But nicotine was a long lost friend that seemed to have the magic ability to wash away the stress. Of course the stress was never really gone and 15 minutes later I would be craving again.
The ashes tumbled to the ground as I gave a half hearten flick. So many things you pick up in life are bad habits, they damage your health, relationships and who knows what else, but none of my other bad habits got the publicity of my cancer causing friend.
There are worse things in life then cancer. Loneliness, constant failure and self doubt would never get a surgeon general’s warning. People didn’t come right and tell you how you should quit them, people wouldn’t volunteer the information on how they damaged your life. You had to realize on your own that they were bad and that you had a problem.
I forcefully smashed the butt into the waiting ashtray. It bent under the pressure and was snuffed out with a solitary wisp of smoke. I knew it was my last, but I already wanted another. I crumpled the green and white Marlboro pack and tossed into the trash. The pack glared at me from the bin. I couldn’t look away.
After nibbling on my nail, I left the room letting the door slam. I knew I would pass the store, the store that I had stopped at everyday on the way home from work to get a pack. I could see it from two blocks away. I don’t know if I could really see it, but in my mind it was laughing at me.
One block to go, could I do it? Could I walk right by? Eric was there, leaning over the counter flicking through a magazine. He always smiled at me and knew right away what I was after before I asked. We would chit chat for a minute and then I would be on my way home.
I paused before pushing the door open. I walked through the aisles, looking for a better vice, one that people wouldn’t look down on. Nervously, I made my way to the counter I kept my eyes to the floor. I couldn’t see the many faces of cancer staring at me. I grabbed a pack of Wrigley’s Spearmint gum and set it on the counter.
“The usual?” he asked.
“Not today, I’m trying to quit,” I said quietly.
“Good for you. I know you can do it. It won’t be easy but if anyone can quit, you can.”
I gave him the quarter for the pack of gum and left with a smile. Maybe I could quit.