She slips out the crowded hallway unnoticed by the mobs of people. I see her. Her blonde hair curls
at her neck and unfurls down to the small of her back. I open the heavy black door for myself and
slip out doing my best to mimic her. 'Brit!' I shout at her. She turns to me with the same
inexplicable grace she exhibited when slithering out the door. A small grin spreads across her face.
'You coming?' She says back calmly. She stands on the end of the side walk now, waiting for me
to catch up. Her shoulder bag swings carelessly by her side. We walk silently until we reach a
shabby looking white house. The screen door is busted and a tan truck with no left headlight is
parked in the drive way. I stop in the taking the smell of rain which still lingered in the air from
the morning thunder storm. 'Come here.' She whispers and yanks me from the middle of the
driveway to the space between the white house and the identical tan one next to it. Her nails are
painted bright pink. My feet sink into the wet grass. She digs into her bag and paws through her
belongings until she pulls out what she was searching for. Brit grips the pack of Marlboros tightly.
She flips up the lid to the pack and pulls out a slim white cigarette. 'You want one?' She asks
holding it out my way, her silver headband gleaming in the single ray of sunshine peaking through
the curtain of gray. 'I'm good.' I say putting my hands in front of me, pushing the cigarette
away. My nails are chipped and ugly. She pulls a lighter out of her jeans pocket and lights the
cigarette. She inhales, she exhales. 'Nicotine.' She says as she giggles. She passes it to me. I
hold it in between my fingers. I smoke occasionally, but rarely cigarettes. For some reason, it
looks tempting. 'You smoke it.' She laughs. I laugh too, smiling sheepishly. I put it to my lips
and feel the filter. I breathe in sharply expanding my diaphragm and welcoming in the smoke. I think
to myself I have no reason for why I'm doing this, other then the fact that it's available to
me. I'm not addicted. I don't like smoking. She repeats my motions and then passes it too me
again for the second time. I put it to my lips and inhale even longer. The smoke gets caught in the
air passage and I hack and cough. Tears come to my eyes. She grins
taunting me. I let her finish the cigarette. After almost choking on air, I retire from trying to
smoke. She stubs it out on the sidewalk and grinds it into the ground using her white silver
moccasins. As we walk the lack of food combined with nicotine leaves me with a pounding headache. My
hands quiver like an excessively nervous person. 'Food!' I yell out, laughing. She doesn't
reply but I feel her giggling next to me. I turn bolder, and more serious. 'Why do you smoke?' I
ask. 'You've asked me that before.' She replies as we cross the dampened street. 'You've
never answered it before.' I retort. 'Because I can't stop.' She looks up at the light gray
sky. 'What? Smoking?' I look at her. 'Yes.' She breathed. 'Why do you smoke?' She asked.
'I don't
know. It justifies what you're doing, I guess.' 'Thanks.' She laughs. 'Im kidding. I get
unusually nervous when I'm not smoking something.' I say halfway joking. We walk the sidewalk
that leads back to the same doors that coaxed us out ten minutes earlier. I swing the door open and
peer into the crowded hallway. Brit's voice finds its way to my ear from behind me. I turn my head
around. Her black jacket is zipped all the way up. 'Isn't it funny that for other people its the
exact opposite. The get unusually nervous when they're smoking something.' 'Were not other
people.' I say with a certain sadness and pride as I let her go ahead of me. 'Isn't that the
truth.' As she shakes her head she smiles with my same empty sadness but full pride I exhibited.
She waves at me and creeps into the crowd. She disappears quickly into the sea of people. I walk in
after.