smoke break

Flick.

A small jut of the wrist to crumble some ash. He inhales. The streamline of tobacco doesn’t even grate his throat anymore as it travels swiftly down to his lungs. Hold, two, three. Exhale, two, three. Inhale, two, three. Hold, two, three. Exhale, two, three. Flick. A compulsive counting tick in his head, deliberate instructions to the body - almost as if he’d forget to breathe.

If only.

What had once been an active choice was now a scratching addiction. But, it wasn’t something that plagued his thoughts often, only, maybe, when he’d smoked through his pack the night before. Nothing is worse than waking up to no smoke in sight.

He’s thirty-nine now. What came with thirty-nine was what came similarly with thirty-eight, or thirty-five, or twenty-eight - just.. more time. He scuffs at the heel of his left foot with hooked fingers and slips on his sneaker, the most bending he would be doing this morning for sure. Once striving for a menial day, Peri’s very existence is that; simple and defined, unambitious and lenient. He holds his cigarette between gritted teeth as he reaches for his keys amongst a series of jackets lining the front closet. This everyday game of hide and seek did nothing but frustrate him, though not enough to buy a hook, or bowl. His lack of organization lent itself to being some aspect of his personality. There had to be a point where uncleanliness could be labeled a birth defect as opposed to unabashed laziness. It was simply part of him, Peri; unorganized, monotonous, victor.

Victor always had to be third in the equation.

For many years he tried to wash away that title. Hide in shadows, throw himself to mediocrity, scrub his skin beet red in an attempt to fragrant away the label. But there was no Peridot Myler without victory. This was something he’s come to accept. He was well into the point of his life where he’s existed more with the Games than without and the mind games of before and after were nothing but poisonous memories from his twenties.

Left, right, back left. Keys, cigarettes and lighter, wallet. He dabbed his pockets with open palms to ensure they were all there, a green light to saunter out the door.

Peri; unremarkable, forgettable, thirty-nine.