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sarcastically between breaths and slowly made her way back to her familiar nook beneath my chin. I squeezed her tightly and rested my head back against the mattress.

"You know, you're friends smoke too, and you never hassle them, and same with your parents," she said after regaining her normal pace of breathing. "I don't see why you have to give me such a hard time."

"I don't have to," I said. "I want to. I care about you. I want you to quit because I know it's bad for you and I don't ever want to see anything bad happen to you. I'm not going to try and force you to do anything you don't want to, but I just want you to know that I care about what happens to you." She slowly sat up on the bed and faced the wall. After a brief moment of silence, she looked back over her shoulder and met my eager stare with equally confident eyes.

"I'll quit someday, when I feel like quitting." She let herself fall face down on the bed and reached to the floor for her pack of smokes. With a lighter in her left hand and the green and white package in her right, she flipped open its lid with her thumb. She stopped and stared at the tops of the remaining cigarettes and slowly shook the box from side to side. The cellophane shimmered as it caught the night's first ray of moonlight. She closed the box and dropped it to the floor. "I think I feel like quitting." She crawled back across the bed and laid down over my arm. I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. Her eyes closed as I rested my head in the pillow and stared at the moonlit walls and glowing ceiling.

Just as I began to drift back to the star white beaches and dancing sky, I felt her head turn. First a spark, then flame. I lifted my head and stared blankly in her direction. She turned to me and met my thoroughly surprised glare with equally staggered eyes. "I thought you quit."

Learn more about this author, Jack Myles.
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