Eleven Cigarettes.

"Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it thousands of times."
~ Mark Twain

I slowly open my eyes to the new day, and the first thing that I see is an ashtray. I blink a few times, trying to get my bearings; the sensation starting to hit me. My eyes slowly start their inevitable crawl towards the two cigarettes lying there beside said ashtray, a white lighter leaning up against them.

After dropping the kids off at school, I look down into the cup holder. There sits a single filtered cigarette. A red lighter is sitting next to it, and the ashtray in the Jeep is looking extremely full. 

I have just eaten breakfast. With the food slowly starting it's process of digestion, I notice that something is missing. Though I can't quite figure out what that is, I reach an arm across the bed, and pull the ashtray over beside me. 

I'm in the hospital again. This is the second time in my life that I've had a collapsed lung. They tell me things that I already know, like "tall people with extended chest cavities are prone to pnuemathorax." As I lay here in my pristine hospital bed, I look at the counter beside me. There are no cigarettes. There is no ashtray.  

I'm five minutes out of the hospital. It's been almost a solid seven days since I've seen a cigarette. As I get into the passenger seat of the car, I am relieved to have been handed one. I turn my gaze to the window, not looking at the ashtray. 

It's almost time for dinner. I know that this process with take approximately one to one and a half hours. It will be a while before I can come back up here. As I scan the room for anything that I might need to take with me, I look at the bedside table. Sitting neatly on it, are a pack of cigarettes, a brown lighter and an ashtray. 

The sun has decided to set. I now have a beer in my hand and know that there is another one waiting for me in the freezer. As I take my first sip, I survey the room to make sure that I won't have to leave again. Turns out that I won't. There are thirteen cigarettes on the rolling table. I will probably end up spilling the ashtray.  

As I turn on Return of the Living Dead to watch before bed, I tell my girlfriend that I love her. I look down the length of the bed, and see my dog laying on his side, snoring. The room is dark but for the light of the television screen, and as I turn my head to face the bedside table, I see two cigarettes waiting patiently for me to start again in the morning. I roll over, sickened by the ashtray.