That puffa smoke!

I have stopped smoking. I don’t use the word quit. The first time that I actually stopped, I went around telling people proudly that I quit and that I finally got myself rid of this ghastly habit, only to fall flat on my face when someone casually passed me that not-so-harmless-looking drag in between rounds of drinks. The first drag always gets you strapped to the seat and before you know it you are on a roller coaster ride. Its that time of the year when I manage to stop smoking and its been three days since I have even bothered to look at it. Its really easy to keep away from smoking as long as you stay away from the first drag. Occasionally, ofcourse, there is this urge that makes you want to buy the tobacco stick from the oh-so many shops where it can be procured. Today is just one of those days. I see a guy approaching me with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He comes up to me and asks “You got a match?” “Yeah” I say to him before I walk away. “My butt, your face.”