The faint squeak of the bed echoed through the room when she got up, leaving you behind in between the sheets, her spot on the bed still warm. You took a few seconds to turn around, giving her some time — you wouldn't be able to stop her anyway.

No matter how many times Jinx said she'd quit, she never really did. A few days would pass with her smoking less and less, and on a random night, she would spend an hour and a half out on the balcony, the smoke sneaking into the room, letting you know that she was always far from quitting.

Her hair was in a braid, you'd braided it for her this morning, and she chose to keep it for bed. The gray t-shirt she wore was soft and loose, different from the ones she wore for work, which were tighter and of a less stretchy fabric.

You noticed the smoke around her, the way her head was slightly tilted to the side, looking at all the buildings below and in front of her. The night was still lively. The city never really slept, no matter how hard she wished it would. The lights from the billboards bothered her, but there was nothing she could really do.

"I know." she murmured, her voice slightly hoarse, probably from the cigarette mixed with sleepiness. Her tone was resentful, a bit resigned. She knew what you were thinking.