In the summer you would slide out a cancer-stick to light and inhale to dissipate your sorrows. You posed agasinst a brick wall like a planned out photograph, smoking while passer-bys strode past, uncaring. When anger, terror, or emptiness overwhelmed you, you'd yank out that box of tobacco-slivers to calm your jittery nerves and furious mind. But one pale, fragile, little girl cared. You didn't see her coming as she strmed up the street, eyes intent on the stranger smoking, pluming out waves of grey pollution. She stood, glaring, fists pressed against her hips.
"What?" you asked, looking her up and down, unimpressed.
"Stop," she demanded, staring at the cigarrette resting betwixt your fingers.
"Why?" you asked, slumping against the wall, puffing out more smoke. Rage boiled up inside her. Acting on that rage, she snatched the cigarrette from you, crushing it against her skin.
"What the fuck are you doing!" you roared, quickly groping her arm, examining the wound, "Hospital. Now. Let's go!" You towed her behind you until you arrived at San Juan Mercy. She was bandaged and released.
"Every time you go to smoke, think of that," she said, glancing up at you.
"I will.." you whispered, vowing to never smoke again, compliments of that miniature doll that soon became your best friend.
dang, this was a really good story. I really enjoyed it. it kept my attention and impressed me.. I would change the "best friend" at the end maybe say the girl that inspired her to live a healther life and live 10x longer or something..best friend just doesnt go that well. but i love it!
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