smoking

lights

Marlboro Menthol, the green soft pack. It made me think of hair curlers, knocked over highballs and lipstick stains. I loved the weight of the pack as I held it in my hand. Lovingly, my fingers slowly rubbed against the shiny slightly dented pack, tracing the large black letters of the logo. Soothed, I felt comfort in the way the cigarette slid out of the pack, how clean the white line of tubing was as it stretched ruler straight, my lips welcoming the freshly lit cigarette as the smoke burned down my throat and made my eyes water as I sat on a planter box in the alcove by the front steps.

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