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To aftermore. Who is very beautifully gifted with her crafts of words. The Despisement Theorem.

       "Lungs as dark as coal." 

    January 12, 1993

   Lennon had remembered having a certain conversation he had with her. It was rather awkward. Well it was rather his answer to her inquiry that was awkward.

    " Hey, Lenno, I have a question."

      "Okay."

"What was your first impression of me?"

      He had tried his best to recollect the memories, the thoughts, the emotions he had the day he had accidentally had an encounter with her.

She smelled of a metallic odor. That was almost all he could remember about her every time he looked back at the past. When she had ran down the stone beat stairs, Lennon had remembered her dropping something.

Two things actually. Two boxes of red Marlboro cigarette boxes lying on the pavements. It was only seconds before she had came out the door and it looked as if Lennon was there at the right time. Well - he was.

And Lennon remembered thinking that after plucking those cigarette boxes off the floor, that he had probably bumped into a gang member or something. But that wasn't it at all.

In fact Lennon felt so profusely shocked and confused and a little terrified when he had laid eyes on her. A young girl with speckles of freckles and pretty eyes. As young as he was.

She was a young girl.

There was a cigarette wedged between her lips. And he remembered watching her poisoned lips blow on the burning stub. The smoke dissipating at the other end.

She only stared at him for a few minutes before telling him thank you and taking the boxes from his hands before she left.

But the thing that intrigued Lennon that day and nearly scared him to death, was that when he picked up the boxes of cigarettes one box still felt full.
The other, well the other felt almost empty. And it scared the hell out of him very much as well. All Lennon remembered thinking was;
"Fuck. She finished one box."

And then he thought about Tom back in Georgia. Because Tom always joked about smoking a quarter of a box, sometimes a half, and sometimes the whole box of lung killers a day.

Lennon would sometimes hang out with Tom. He wasn't much of friend. He was just a door away so every time Lennon had to take out the garbage or do some chore of sort that involved him going out the house, Tom was almost always outside as well.

Tom would be on the porch, sitting on the little family bench at the left side of the house - the same kind of cigarette burning his lungs; just as the girl Lennon had came across.

"Aye, heads up."

He would say, throwing him the box of cigarettes; signaling him to take one. Lennon's instincts were always to either throw it back to the almost-always-troubled-teen, or to plop it in one of the bin disposals- preferably which ever was near.
And then he remembered seeing Tom at some sort of end of the year party, and Tom had been trying to yet again stupidly convince Lennon to take a cigarette with his thought-to-be- persuasive-idiotic-words;

"Lennon - just take a fucking cigar, it won't bite you in the ass."

Lennon would've shoved Tom into the nearest river at the time, but Tom was of course obviously intoxicated so he decided it was best to let him be. And thinking back to all those things Tom had said or joked about - Lennon couldn't be any more happier that he didn't take any of his idiotic advice.

Because now, well now Tom can't even make a joke, he could barely swallow let alone breath without his throat hurting. And if he could say something without his throat suffering some sort of minor injury- there would be one thing Tom would say;

"fuck cigarettes."

_______|___________|_______

So overall, Lennon's first impressions of her based, on his poor memory of their accidental encounter was;

"Uhh a gang member? A really pretty gang member."

To which she replied;

"Cool."

She slowly nodded.

" Very cool. . ."


[m.]

Hey guys! Have I mentioned I entered this story in the Wattys? I need to finish this haha and by the way so sorry for the explicit language! I don't like using them but its sorta like a way to express feeling and emotions. Stay tuned guys for more!

p.s | this book does not support the use of drugs; in fact it is dedicated to those who are trying to quit, have been having difficult situations as the result of drug use, are trying to find reasons to stop, or to those who are simply trying to understand the circumstances there is to obtaining a life with drug use. So please, please understand that this story contains content of frugal use but it most certainly does not support it or popularize such usage. Thank you.





FelicityOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora