As I looked at him, I could see not only him, but his reflection in the car window, how the lights from other cars and streetlights played across his face, how his eyes lit up with each taillight from a car. He handed me his cigarette. “You’ll like it!” he said with a smirk across his face. I had never smoked before. A cigarette was foreign to me. It was something that scared me; the fact that I could die from something so little just made me want to never do it. So, I took it. I don’t know if it was because I actually wanted to try it, or if it was because I wanted to make him happy. I grasped the little cylindrical piece of parchment from his callused fingers, put it up to my lips, and inhaled deeply. The smoke engulfed my lungs; captivating my body and mind. I could feel my lungs fighting the smoke and wanting it out. I let my body warm up to the feeling of ‘smoke,’ how it made my mind feel, how I felt dizzy and relaxed at the same time. How everything was easier. It wraps me up in a cloud of white, taking everything away.

Before I knew it, I was coughing. Coughing so hard I couldn’t stop. Then my head started to burn. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Yes.” I said flatly. Looking out my own car window and wondering if the lights played on my face as they did on his. I didn’t want that feeling again. Then I took another drag.