Smoking, Never Quit Giving Up

I quit smoking, yes again.

Jesus fuck me Christ, I hear you all say. Enough!

Yep, is my answer. I shrug.

What is it they say, never quit giving up.

I was at a party and this woman with an interesting face, named Heloise, who offered me a cigarette. “Cigarette?”

“Oh, no thank you, I don’t smoke.”

“You don’t smoke?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

How long had it been? Oh, I don’t know? Could it be measured in anything longer than days? Whatever? But, it was the first time I could say to someone that I didn’t smoke. I was quite pleased with that.

“You are lucky,” she said.

“Why am I lucky?”

“Not smoking. You are lucky you don’t smoke.”

Was I going to make any admissions? No, I think not. Why should I? “Well, yes, I consider myself to be lucky.”

“Yes, you are. Lucky not to be a slave to this.” She held up her burning cigarette. I wanted to snatch it out of her hand and greedily puff away on it until it was all gone, before she could stop me. 

But I didn’t. I simply smiled.

“I wish I could stop.”

“It must be a drag,” I said. I wanted to laugh at the, would you call it a pun, I don’t know, but I wanted to laugh at my cleverness. 

But I didn’t. I just smiled.

“Yes, it is a drag.” And she puffed on her cigarette without any hint of irony at all. Would you call it irony? I don’t know? “It is a nasty habit.”

“Yes, it is,” I said.

“Oh, does it bother you?” she asked.

“Oh no, it doesn’t bother me.” I was trying to inhale as much smoke as I could without making it obvious.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Oh yes, quite sure. Smoke away. Burst into flames it won’t bother me.”

She then looked at me suspiciously.

Perhaps, I had pushed it too far, I thought.