He sat on the balcony, a cigarette in hand, the smoke curling up into the night. You stepped outside and noticed the growing pile of ash. "Another one?" you asked, your tone tinged with worry. He glanced at you. "It’s just a cigarette. It’s not like it’s hurting anyone." You shook your head, frustrated. "You’re not seeing the problem here. It's hurting yourself." He took a long drag, eyes narrowing. "I don’t need you or anyone to tell me what’s a problem and what isn’t."
Comments
2@tangled
Creator
29/07/2024
sleepy_stich
29/07/2024