I leaned back in my off-white office chair as I curled my fingers around a cigarette; smog filled my top-floor apartment, and the stench of tobacco drifted mindlessly around. It was suffocating. That was how I liked it. I flicked the end of the cigarette and licked my dried lips. I brought the shrinking cigarette closer and pressed it against my lips.

I looked around my apartment and saw a rat run into the kitchen. Trash bags were filled with garbage throughout the apartment. The walls were stained, and the ceiling was crumbling from the mold. “I guess the little bastard is hungry,” I said. I giggled; the giggle turned into a hard laugh, and my stomach shook so violently that my shirt ripped.

I inhaled a shallow breath through my nose as I took in the scent of the tobacco. A chill slid down my spine like an excited child at a water park, and the short curly black hair on my arm stood elated by the aroma. I inhaled and the smoke flooded my lungs.