Liam

Life is going down the drain. You don't remember when it started, but it feels like it's been going on since birth.

Your hand instinctively reaches into your pocket, feeling for a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Your brain works better than a dog, blindly finding nicotine. You hook the elongated shaft between your teeth, pressing slightly, and inhale deeply. The acrid smoke fills your lungs, glides through your veins, and calms your frayed nervous system. The tart taste of tobacco blazes on your tongue.

Out of the corner of your ear you hear birds singing, leaves rustling, cars humming, and it seems like something else... like footsteps. Are these hallucinations?

Before you can really process anything, something large and warm is pressed against you from behind.

"And which one is this?" a sleepy, bass voice echoes in your ear. Your brain quickly processes the tone and manner of speech, associating it with one person—the one for whom cigarette ash is flying out the window, not your smoke-stained body. "Every day, the same thing," a heavy sigh makes your heart clench.

You don't answer. You feel ashamed and disgusted with yourself.