The Last Cigarette
The Last Cigarette
The long, silver package sits on the bed beside her, zippo resting on top. She lifts the package, rolls it onto its side, lifts it, and rolls it again. It revolves as methodically as her mind, rotating back to the same thoughts again and again.
She opens the pack; only one smoke remaining. She glances at the clock; enough time to get out later, but now she’s focused on enjoying one thing. She jiggles the pack until the white filter of the cigarette pokes out above the opening. She quickly grasps it in her teeth and slides out the long, white smoke. The zippo chimes as the lid opens, sizzles faintly as the wick blazes; the cigarette morphs into a living being as it greedily drinks the flame’s heat. She drags hungrily on the filter so her cheeks cave and her chin wrinkles. Her eyes close as she experiences the ecstasy of the first inhale.
Smokes drifts slowly from her open lips, parted only enough to allow the cigarette to dangle from her mouth. Her hands are otherwise occupied, turning that silver package over and over onto itself. Her mind races as the ember devours her last hope to retain sanity.
The second drag is quick, and she allows the smoke to drift slightly from her lips before whipping it back into her lungs; she exhales through her nose gracefully, allowing the smoke to leave her in two strong streams. She starts to flick the lid of her zippo, enjoying the clicking sound it makes.
As she thinks more and more of him, she takes longer and heftier drags. She curls the smoke out of her mouth and allows it to drift up through her nose in a French inhale; she exhales slowly through her mouth, letting the smoke twist and twirl to the ceiling. She clenches the cigarette in her teeth while double dragging, and takes so much into her lungs that the exhale is thick enough to leave her in a white fog. By the time it dissipates, she sees that she’s already half way through her last cigarette.
Her mind still races on, finally her body catches up; she can feel herself tingling, feel her body asking for something to sooth it. As she takes another deep inhale, she starts to run that silver package up and down, from between her breasts to the button of her navel. She enjoys the feel of the smooth plastic and jagged edges along her skin; the melding of pleasure and pain.
Smoke drifts from her mouth as she lets it escape on its own momentum. Her inhale was so deep that the exhale continues with her next breath; small, weak tendrils of spent smoke cling to her nostrils. Her nipples harden under the pressure of her pinching fingers while the cigarette stays erect between her teeth.
The inhales are starting to burn slightly against her lips as the ember reaches the filter; again, that sensation of pleasure and pain melding together, and it makes her body scream out for more attention. The last drag of the last cigarette is a long one, and she watches as the ember devours the remaining tobacco and feels the thick smoke burn past her throat. The last exhale is as long as the inhale, thick, bold streams of smoke billowing from her nose and mouth at the same time. Her mind is focused, her thoughts are racing, and her body is screaming out; it’ll be a long walk to the store after the excitement of the last cigarette.