You worried for my health as you gave me facts and details you had learned from the Internet about ‘the white death’. And I only half listened, because something will kill us after all. It was not good enough…that I cut back on the amount of sugar I ate. Oh no, and after a time, you declared that you learned to not care. I could kill myself if that’s what I wanted. You shamed and snarled–and smoked cigarettes, calmly blowing the smoke out as you watched the world from your window. You liked them. You liked the way they gave you a slight buzz and the way you could roll the cigarettes between your lips. It wasn’t often you smoked, but smoked you did. Hypocrite! It all makes no sense to me now. Why I let you bully me! Did it make you feel taller, smarter, better? Like those cigarettes rolling between your lips?