He took a deep puff with a wrenching pain in his heart and whispered,” My Last Cigarette.”
He wished to paint his thoughts in the uncloudy and azure sky but was afraid of the fact that it might get turned out into the gloomy day. All his emotions were bottled-up every day, much like the cotton piled up clouds. Maybe he was thinking about the time when he would linger over the Coffee shop with a cigarette in his hand or maybe he was thinking about the time when he would wake up and make a strong coffee for himself by playing melancholy songs in the background. Although he didn’t utter a word but his eyes has spoken a million and many things about how sad he was.
It’s drizzling outside, he is standing at his balcony with a cup of coffee in one hand and cigarette on the other, adding to the tranquility. Cigarette was his forever constant. It was the only thing that would stick him through his thick and thin. It was there to perk him up when he was happy and accompanied him when he felt down in the dumps.
It was calmness to his restlessness. Ray of hope to his darkness. He tossed the cigarette in the ashtray and heaved a sigh of relief.
He awoke late the next fine day, brewed a cup of coffee, opened the drawer, and took a cigarette in his hand cracking a smile he said – “THE LAST CIGARETTE.”
It’s hard to give up on things that is close to our heart. It’s high time now to live for oneself. We are free to make choices in our life.