Mini Brain Dumps

“God I need a cigarette.”

And almost as if God had heard me, I saw it.

There, just a few feet away, lying innocently on the floor like a gift. A cigarette. As perfect as if I had taken it out of the pack myself.

I stared at it, transfixed. My body screamed for it. Just one. A quick drag, a moment of relief. I could almost feel the burn in my lungs, the familiar warmth spreading through me. I felt myself reaching out for it, my fingers inches from the ground.

Your mom will notice. She always did. And my wife – God, Alyce. She hated it. I could already see the hurt in her eyes, the silent judgment. She didn’t deserve to put up with this. Not again.

I swallowed hard.

Maybe I could hide the smell. Stash my coat in the car as I shivered in the cold. Pass it off as someone near me smoking one. Cologne. I’d be fine.

What was I doing?

I straightened up, my eyes never leaving the cigarette,

I hated this part of myself, the part that needed it, the part that couldn’t let go.

I exhaled slowly, my breath shaky.

One moment. That’s all it would take. One moment to undo all the good intentions. But was it worth it? Was the fleeting comfort worth everything I’d have to hide after?

“No.”

The word barely passed my lips before my feet moved on their own, stepping over the cigarette. I didn’t look back, not even once.

But as I walked steadily down the hall, I could still feel the burn in my chest. Not from the smoke, but from the ache of what I had just denied myself. A quick, simple fix—so easy, so fleeting.

Yet, it was worth it. I told myself it was.

The hallway stretched on, and all I could hear was the sound of my own footsteps, louder than the heartbeat in my chest.