Great. Of course. “Okay.” I increase the volume on the Tv. I need a damn smoke. My head feels split in two. I go over to the window and crack it then dig through the top drawer of the dresser for my emergency cigarettes stash. Bingo. At least one thing has gone my way tonight. Back at the window I light up my Marlboro and take a hard drag. Tobacco pulls through my lungs in a familiar burn that I’ve grown addicted to feeling.
“You shouldn’t be smoking in here.” Wylla Mae glares at me up on her knees in the center of the bed, lips jutted out and a hand on her hip. She looks ready to pop off like a little firecracker. Little sassy assed brat is what she is. She looks like an angel till she opens that mouth. Kid was shy at first but now she won’t shut the hell up.
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s bad for you. You could get cancer and die or worse.”
“What’s worse than death?”
“You’re exposing me to secondhand smoke and I’m just a kid.”
I chuckle, blowing my smoke out the window.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I’m not.”
“Are too,” she sasses.
God this kid and her mouth. I pity the poor soul who marries her one day.