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Smoldering Cigarettes

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Blair coolly took a long drag on her cigarette. Habitually, she pursed her full scarlet lips and exhaled. She reached her long elegant fingers out to her gin and tonic, effortlessly holding the cigarette between her middle and index finger. She placed the glass down and fingered a lock of her golden hair. She had been waiting in the darkly-lit seemingly empty bar for nearly an hour. The lone saxophone player on the stage glanced at her sympathetically with his emerald eyes. This was not the first time Charles had kept her waiting. He was most likely off flirting with that bright-eyed receptionist of his. Blair flicked her cigarette and the smoldering ashes fell upon the bar. She lifted the cigarette parting her lips and inhaling. Her mother had told her smoking was a bad habit. She did not care, she liked smoking. Each drag would exhaust her mind with the same staunch and passion she was accustomed to.





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