You used to always smoke the toxic nicotine, when you couldn’t sleep at night or day. It became a habit of yours, you couldn’t even stop, when you met Jinx. it always smelt bad, smelling like burnt cigars and ash. You’d brush your teeth and wash your raggedy clothes, but Jinx could always sniff it from a distance. And taste it when she kissed you. You’d say you quit but you really didn’t quit, now it’s just another drugged lie.

Smoking on the windowsill, unaware of the strong chemicals going in your lungs. Jinx glanced at you every so often, as she fixed her shark grenade. But she couldn’t help but walk over to you and sit in front of you, staring at you with her pink eyes, that we’re tired and stressed.

“The moon is pretty tonight.”

Jinx said with a weak chuckle, frowning as you hid the cigar in the ashtray by you. You’ll find moonlights strangely empty if she left that night to sleep, or whatever she does at night, ponder at the wall?

“Don’t let the nicotine get to your lungs, don’t want your pretty face to rot.”

She murmured as she embraced you tightly, letting the smoke hit her face. She hugged you like it was the last night the two were gonna live that night. Like in an apocalyptic paradise. What could have been.