Never Share a Cigarette

There is something about sharing a cigarette after sex. It is as if by doing so you have no choice but to admit to what you have become. Each time you inhale, you can taste your partner, smell them, feel them and understand them better. Each drag brings on flashes of what the two of you have shared. It means security, comfort, companionship and most importantly, trust.

Julie doesn't usually stay for a smoke. She's up and dressed as quickly as possible. The taste, smell and memories are not what she wants. She doesn't want to understand them and she will never trust them.

She keeps her eyes on the ground as she turns her back on whoever she is with and pulls on her clothes quickly in a last-ditch attempt to preserve her dignity. She doesn't look up as she pulls on her shoes. Her bag feels like dead weights thrown over her shoulder. Her hair falls to cover her eyes and she makes no attempt to pull it back. The make-up she had so carefully applied earlier in the night is long gone. She's tired and it shows in the way she moves. Still, she is beautiful.

She looks; not older but certainly wiser than before she began the game. She's calm and proud and though she wants nothing more than to call a cab and head for home, she gathers the rest of her possessions methodically and with so much dignity, he can only watch her in silence and admiration from under the covers.

She fingers the pack of Benson and Hedges in her pocket. She talks to him ' more accurately he interrogates her and she responds simply and bluntly to the routine questions she is only too familiar with "No, I'm not on the pill, I don't have a boyfriend and "no, I don't think I know your girlfriend.

She runs through her mental check list. Keys, wallet, cigarettes. Yes, she has her cigarettes. He's talking to her still, telling her it was great, he's knackered and will sleep all day. She's smiling and slowly edging toward the bedroom door with her fingers still tightly wrapped arount the golden 20 pack in her pocket. She is almost tempted to light up in front of him, but that would be like standing naked in front of him all over again.

"'See you in the pub maybe. She calls out as she turns to leave. He sits up and leans forward as if to kiss her and she makes a dash for the door repeating her excuses as she goes.

She stops outside the front door as the freshness of the cool night air hits her allowing her to breathe for the first time after hours of suffocating in the stale and lonely room she has finally escaped from.

Once again, Julie stuffs her hand inside her jacket pocket and pulls out the cigarettes she has been focused on for the last 20 minutes. Just looking at them makes her feel safe. She rests the orange tip gently between her chapped lips and fumbles in her bag for her favourite cherry pink lighter. "Damn! She must have left it inside. She makes a point of never leaving any part of her behind but lately she had been slipping up. A couple nights previously she had absent-mindedly left her phone behind and was forced to reluctantly return to the scene.

Tossing her annoyance aside she continues digging in her bag sure there was a pack of matches from a recent nights hotel stay in there somewhere. She finds them and holds her breath briefly as the sulphur from the match fills her lungs. She breathes in deeply, tasting the poison resting on her tongue and filling her mouth. As she exhales the last memories of the evening drip from her mouth and float upwards with the smoke into the fast-approaching morning air. Her tired eyes watch them carefully as one by one they burst like bubbles.

"Another cigarette saved. A smile comes over her faced that is filled with irony and she takes her first steps towards home.