Manuel sat on his porch smoking a cigarette. Every single time he would light a new one he would promise himself it would be his last. He took a long drag and the diminishing orange tip lit up. With his head tilted back and his eyes closed, he blew a straight line of smoke into the air. He imagined his troubles and problems were within the smoky haze it made, floating and fading away into thin air, forever leaving him behind.

“I wish,” he thought to himself. “It just doesn’t work like that.” Manuel was smarter than that, to believe that smoking or drinking or drugs made your low points in life disappear for good. Still, his problems did not compare to getting a flat tire or locking yourself out of your home. It was not the answer but he needed something to ease his nerves. He flicked the filter behind a bush and lit a new cigarette. “So much for that promise,” he whispered silently.

An hour later, it was time to leave. His mind told him “No” but his heart was screaming “Fuck it, let’s go!”