Lovebug

Where she went

I arrive at home at 9:07 am.
I wait outside my front door for 3 minutes and 20 seconds.
20 minutes and 20 seconds.

I open my front door.
Familiar creaking.
It smells the same.
I kick my shoes off and place them on the shoe rack.
Warm floor. No socks.
9:13.
I remove the whales from my ears and turn off my phone.
9:14.
I turn my phone back on.
9:14.
I walk to my bedroom.
I reach under my mattress and pull out a carton of 8 cigarettes.
I couldn't tell you who I'm hiding these from.
I pull one out and place it behind my ear.
White, smooth, painful.
I walk 5 steps to my bookshelf.
My matchbook sits in a clear plastic box behind my copy of
How To Kill A Mockingbird.
Tapping, searching, unfastening.

I have the matchbook in my hand.
Its 9:17.
I have to stand here for 3 more minutes.
9:18.
I'm still standing here.
9:19.
I start to wonder.
I used to be so free.
I wonder where she went.
9:20.
I walk 30 steps to my back porch.

Pulling, striking, snap.
I put the cigarette in my mouth.
I touch the flame to the end.
Fuck I hate the smell.

I only do this because my brother told me not to.
Said he would kill me if he ever saw me with one.
I take whatever freedom I can get my hands on.

Inhale, burning, stench.
It's disgusting.
The nicotine keeps me melting.

Its 9am and I've already returned home.
This isn't like me.
I forgot to eat. I forgot socks.
Home by 9.
9:21 and I've finished the cigarette.
I walk 15 steps to the end of my yard.
I throw the end in the tin cookie box by the fence and close the lid.
Cleanliness.
My shame lives at the end of my yard.

I'm 19 years old.
I smoke one cigarette a day.
I have since my 18th birthday.
That is 554 cigarettes.
I have no plan to stop.
I take whatever freedom I can get my hands on.