I have to work today which sucks because I’m still hungover from last night plus today’s my birthday. The shift feels incredibly long and my feet permanently hate me from wearing heels the night before a five hour shift. Luckily, it’s a slow day and I’m given a break halfway through. During my break I head outside and smoke a cigarette next to the dumpster behind the diner.
Looking at the pack makes me think of last night and how shitty the whole night was. Well, not the whole night, just the part where I realized my entire apartment complex knows how shitty of a boyfriend Johnny is or how pathetic I am for staying with him. Also, the cabbie that kept asking me if he should call the cops on Andy because I was balling my eyes out the entire ride home surprisingly did not improve the night at all. But no, it wasn’t the whole night that was shitty. Looking at the pack also makes me wonder why I started smoking in the first place. I guess it was because the first time Johnny kissed me was between drags of a menthol and I loved the idea of smoking ever since. It reminded me of Johnny and of stumbling home drunk our sophomore year. Arm in arm, we’d try to not to draw attention to our own intoxication. Cop cars drove up and down the quiet streets looking to distribute citations for underage drinking or public drunkenness, and yet we only cared about making the other one laugh. But now I only think of how many packs of cigarettes Johnny could’ve bought with a hundred dollars.