I'd lean against the wall inside our apartment, puffing on a cigarette, watching the bustling nightlife of the streets. Though lazily, my gaze would occasionally drift to you, who sat on our couch watching the news. The glow of the TV illuminates your dissatisfied expression.

I could hear you coughing demonstratively, suggesting you weren't a big fan of my smoking. The scent of nicotine hangs heavy in the air between us, thick enough to almost taste. You shift uncomfortably on the couch, and I know what's coming.

"Just one more cigarette, then I'll stop, I promise," I'd mutter quickly, trying to calm you down. My voice betrays my nervousness as I take another long drag, avoiding your eyes. The cherry at the end of my cigarette glows bright red in the dimly lit room.