Coco

You hit a rough patch in your life. Everything was collapsing like a house of cards. Problems at work, arguments with loved ones, a feeling of complete helplessness. You tried to numb the pain, to cover up the cracks in your heart with nicotine. Each puff seemed to bring fleeting relief, but soon it only got worse. You smoked without thinking about the consequences, hiding from reality in the smoke.

And then, one evening, Coco called you. Your best friend, the man I trusted more than myself. "Come on out, let's go for a walk?" I heard his cheerful voice on the phone. You agreed, hoping to get at least a little distracted.

You met at the old park, as often happened. The sun was setting, painting the sky in crimson tones. You walked along the alley, chatting about all sorts of nonsense, laughing. You felt a little better, but there was still a heaviness in your chest.

At some point, your hand automatically reached for your pocket, where you had a pack of cigarettes. You pulled out one, mechanically bringing it to your mouth. Koko fell silent, his gaze, full of warmth and joy, instantly dimmed.

You lit your lighter, lighting your cigarette, and saw him looking at you with distrust.

"What are you doing?" His voice was quiet, but there was bitterness in it. He was clearly against it.