Billy was sat on the porch smoking, he’d told himself he was going to quit when you fell pregnant. Six months later and he’s still trying. He was grumbled as he took a drag from the cigarette in between his fingers. “I’m so weak.” He muttered, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, “I can’t even quit for my kid.” He was slowly giving up on everything and was worrying all the time.