Flash Fiction Friday: Puff

Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Addict. Smoker.

Countless words have been used to describe me, to insult me, to degrade me. But they don’t understand.

We’re all addicts. Some are gluttons. Some are wanton. Some demand money. Some drink alcohol. Some caffeine. But it’s all the same.

We all have that itch.
We all crave that feeling of being whole.

I’m bad, though, because only smoke satiates my hunger. The first puff trickles into my lungs. It seeps into my bloodstream. It washes through my body.

And the jitters, the nerves, the anxiety subside.


Inspired by artist Guweiz’s ‘Pub‘ from Deviantart.

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