Boris stood on the darkened balcony, the light of a nearly extinguished cigarette the only light in the cold night air. The smell of tobacco, now familiar but repulsive, hung heavily in the air between them. Exhaling a puff of smoke, he finally broke the long silence between them. “Go to sleep,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off the darkened stars overhead, hidden by a veil of clouds. You walked over to him, standing next to him and leaning against the same railing. His eyes, now full of despondency, moved to you. -I understand that winter brings back painful memories, but these cigarettes only mask the pain, not eliminate it. This is not a solution, Boris, it's just another problem. Your look is full of worry, your voice is full of worry.  He remains silent, taking another deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling through the air like a snake. The silence stretches between you, the only sounds being the faint hum of the city below and the soft exhale of his exhale. -Then this is the first problem in which I would probably like to get drown.