The first puff of the cigarette was exhaled from his clenched teeth as he groaned. Smoking didn’t look natural for him but he swore by it. The amount of fuss he made with each puff, you’d think he was smoking glass. He felt he was a thin line away from being a fake. He sat at his laptop puffing away waiting for lightning to slam some inspiration into his head but he hardly every wrote anything beyond a couple of paragraphs.
“Sure, the books on the way. It’s in the pipes baby. I’m collecting ideas for it at the moment. Lots of analogies, that’s what I’m working on.”
“How much have you written so far”
“Some. I’ve been working on it for about a year.”
A couple more drags on the cigarette. The cherry edges closer to the filter. Chuck it now, there’s plenty more in the pack, no need to smoke everything to your fingertips. Headrush. Faint gray images play in his head. How can he work in these conditions? Time for a nap.
i like this :) very good!
ReplyDeleteits your girlfriend by the way xx