A Room Full of Strangers
A steady wave of morning light washed over Tom as he left the bedroom with the door shut tight. He struck a match and inhaled a deep breath of dissatisfaction as the steam from the coffee pot meandered unknowingly into the sunlight's path. It tasted a lot like Turkish blend. The phone jumped from the hook to pierce the silence Tom had found. He listened intently as a soft young voice expressed her longing into an answering machine. Tom smiled into his coffee as the girl described the overwhelming presence of
I threw down my last pack of cigarettes over a year ago. They were Marlboro Lights. I miss them sometimes. I also miss the man who raised me. He smoked, as well, until lung cancer snuck up and bit him in the ass. I drink coffee, now. Two pots almost. Better than two packs, I guess. I miss you, grandpa.