Fighting the Good Fight
Title: Fighting the Good Fight
Author: CSIGeekFan
Brigits_Flame Prompt: Demons
Beth always squirmed under the imagined scrutiny on the other side of the huge windows.
Standing out in the cold with only a small shelter keeping the heavy, frozen mist from dripping on her, she sucked in deep. The smoke hit the back of her throat and suddenly her shoulders felt a little looser… a tad more relaxed.
Yet that feeling of being watched didn’t disappear.
Sure, she could change it all by staying inside and hanging out in the break room playing cards; but she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of that first inhale. That blessed first inhale. Beth wouldn’t feel the way the rich tobacco smoke wafted around her lungs, leaking the revered nicotine into her lungs. Instead, she’d be wishing for the bitter, burnt taste, while get cranky over a game of gin rummy.
So instead, Beth stood with her co-worker and friend, feeling the bite of the occasional gust that blew the heavy icy mist into her face. Even in the winter, she chose to pull on her winter coat and brave the elements.
“You seem lost in thought,” Mark said, his head cocked to the side in question. Having worked together for several years, they’d begun the habit of going on break together. As he took a deep drag, Beth sighed. The way he sucked hard left the ash burning a bright, mesmerizing orange.
“I’m just thinking about the last ten times I quit,” she replied, shrugging her shoulder and turning to glance at the windows once again.
Everyone who spent their break time choking down smoke could understand the risks. For most, it had become a social habit; as it had with Beth. She couldn’t imagine not standing outside with Mark, shooting the breeze - harassing him about golf or football, as they were his two favorite topics.
“Are you thinking about quitting again?” he asked between puffs, and Beth nodded.
He didn’t ask for the reason. Part of him may not have cared, although he was friend enough to not voice an opinion either way. Then again, part of him probably did care. Every smoker who stood out in bitter weather, cursing the anti-smoking laws was interested at least on some level.
“I walked into the kitchen and found a note,” Beth said, shrugging once again.
“Your kid?” Mark asked.
“Yeah. My boy Jake crossed out a note calling his brother Paul a dummy. Over the top he wrote, ‘Mom, I love you. I don’t want you to die. Please stop smoking.’ ”
Ruefully, Mark grinned, showing his stained teeth and said, “Yeah, that’s a pretty good one.” Pulling a drag, he inhaled deep, and then slowly exhaled.
“Pretty good, indeed.”