Cravings

photography by http://www.graememitchell.com/


I have been a smoker for a long time and yes, I am trying to quit for the good of my health. I'm just so sick of being told every god damn day that every stick i light up takes one day off my life. Its been Twenty hours, sixteen minutes, thirty-eight seconds and counting since my last cigarette. It was Sandra's birthday and we were both sat in a overpriced and fashionably pretentious New York restaurant awaiting the arrival of our fifteen-word entrees. I'm no great fan of eating out in these trendy places because its just so hard to love a place that's outlawed smoking yet still finds it perfectly acceptable to serve raw fish swimming in chocolate gravy. I'm not a particularly finicky eater but its hard to enjoy dining when the only thing i can stomach is the soothing stench of tobacco.

When the waiter finally brought our entrees, I did not have the faintest idea as to which plate was mine. I thought i had ordered the steak but it came drenched with a medley of suffocated peaches and served alongside a broth of malted liquor and mummified litchi nuts to the point where it was unrecognizable. All i really wanted was a cigarette so i started to scour the menu again, in the hope that tobacco had finally been recognized as a vegetable. I don't understand why it isn't, it can be baked, steamed, grilled and stuffed in to sour clams? I tried my hardest to look like i was enjoying my dinner so Sandra didn't sense my suffering. She of course doesn't approve of smoking, she thinks its repulsive and everything else those ridiculous health magazines tell us all. As she continued to talk about her day, I just nodded my head and umm'ed and ahh'ed in the appropriate places to look like I'm actually listening.

All i could think about was ripping open a pristine box of unfiltered Lucky Strikes and before i could stop myself, i was drooling all over my tie. I can only take so much wine-sipping and small talk until my right hand becomes frantic and restless without the familiar stick of heaven usually clasped between my fingers. I could barley restrain myself as the thought of toasting tobacco sent me over the edge. Without a second glance at Sandra, i leaped out my seat and straight out of the restaurant. I desperately harassed the passersby in a frenzy for a cigarette and once aflame, I inhaled hastily to feel instant, glorious relief. I guess i was just too weak to resist my temptress and I wrapped myself in the cascade of smoke and enjoyed every second of its seductive allure. Slowly, the smoke faded and i began to taste the icy air of the night. I turned to see Lilly sat with a plate of white chocolate and loganberry couscous through the restaurant window staring at me violently. If looks could kill, my bloody corpse would have been sprawled across the pavement.