You weren't a smoker but you have heard of it. Heard of how it relieves stress, how that surge of nicotine in your blood stream triggers the release of dopamine that is more commonly known as the "pleasure hormone." Of course, right now you weren't really looking for pleasure, you would settle for something lesser, like numbness and you have heard cigarettes could do that too. You have given up on the tequila that used to do so well for you because it reminds you of him. He who had broken your heart. He who had made you swear of all men for all eternity. But it wasn't really his fault, but he was the last straw that broke your faith in men. But you still hurt. You do. You don't want to admit it to your friends because you were too strong to breakdown. At least in their eyes.

So you, excuse yourself from the thumping music and the tequila shot that you refused and you go out to the smoke pit. You weren't really a smoker but you had a pack of Marlboro Reds in your purse since that day he left you for someone new. Someone better. You tear at the thin layer of plastic over the carton as you think of the last words he said. It was cliche and it stung like hell, but you couldn't cry. Not for him. So instead you drew the thin roll of tabacco placed it in between your lips that still remember his and you light up. You watch the flicker of flame from the lighter burn the tip of the cigarette and you hear soft crackle as the fire catches on. You drew smoke, invited it down your throat, through your lungs, pass your blood, to your brain and you exhale. You watch the wisps of smoke escape your lips and you blow. You wish that with the coiling smoke that disipate in the air were his words-- his promise and goodbye. But you still hear it. "It isn't you, it's me." But if there was nothing wrong with you and he was the one that was wrong why were you the one left behind? You feel hurt, betrayed but most of all worthless. You take a second drag, waiting for the numbness to come, you close your eyes.

"Nothing beats the first drag after a long day, eh?"

You snap at the direction of the voice-- deep, coarse, masculine. You didn't like the in