Stories from outside your window part 1

He took his drink outside. Closed the door behind him. His mates, or so-called, that is, still couldn't understand why he was acting like he was. It came all of a sudden. He took a deep breath. It was a bit chilly, considering the season.
April....back in the days they already used to have their drinks on the terrace outside the pub, but not this time.He put his drink on the sidewalk.
'' Strictly forbidden to exit the premises with glasses'' read a post sign on one sides of the door. Yeah, right, who are you kidding? he thought.
He took a deep breath. Reached into his pocket, it felt like an eternity till his fingers grasped the cigarettes packet. ''Smoking kills''. He looked at the letters, they seemed giants, grabbing his eye-balls, so he could see them as closest as possible.
He put a strange grin on his face.You must be joking me, he said to himself.He looked around to see if he was alone. He always did, or at least he started to, lately. He didn't know why, it just came naturally. He took another deep breath. A deeper one.
He looked again at the packet. Half full. He couldn't rememeber how many had he smoked since he first started, neither the amount he was doing nowadays. He didn't care. Nobody did. He had nobody. Even if he would, it would've been the same. He'd been a mature man for over 20 years now. The last thing he'd need is a morale now.From anybody.
He made a cigarette fall between his fingers. Put the packet back into his pocket, carefully. Better not to lose it. Who knew how many days left he had to smoke. he lit it. Some people make rituals out of lighting cigarettes, like it's the most important thing they do in life. He wasn't one of those. He was in for the effect, rather than the aspect. He'd never seen smoking as sexy, as they most of the times portray it in comercials or movies...Fuck that. Just let him smoke, it's a necesity.
Before the first cloud of smoke even got to his lungs, he started coughing. All thes years, and his body still pulling pranks on him. He continued coughing with a smile on his face now, almost growing into a laughter. He was thinking of all those thousand and one wishes to quit. From tomorrow on. It was always tomorrow, but that tomorrow never arrived.Maybe he didn't want it to come. He didn't give much thought on it, it wasn't worth it.All he knew was that he was still enjoying it.
People he knew would've taken the chance, maybe.
Perhaps.
It didn't matter anymore. nobody knew but him. Nobody had to know. He wasn't keen on having strangers hanging by his head, as he would sit in his last bed, last days, last smokes, last thoughts.
''You've got lung cancer. Not curable. you won't die next week, but you won't be celebrating Christmas either''. That's what they had told him earlyer, during the day.
He smiled.
He felt like the Candid Camera crew would burst out any minute now. ''Got YOU!''''No, YOU got me!'', he looked at his cigarette. His fingers slightly shaking, it must've been the cold. ''Hello mate, nice to have met you. See you around...''
-Are you talking to someone, Dave? . He recognised the voice but he didn't want to see the person. It wasn't Candid camera, that's for sure. he hadn't even heard the door opening behind him.He faced her.
-No, I'm alright, just repeating a monologue, y'know.
-You've been outside for half an hour now, sweetheart, and it's bloody freezing. C'mon inside, the ladds are offering another one.
-Yeah, just a minute. Let me finish this. He showed her the cigarette, what was left out of it.
-Ok. she looked at him. ''are you alright?'' was all she could think.
-Go!
They crossed eyes. She went back into the noisy pub. He turned his back at it. Took another breath, threw the cigarette butt, squashed it under his thick, heavy Timberlands.''Smoking kills you''. He smiled. ''Yeah, right''. He clapped his hands altogether, rubbing them. Retrieved his glass from the sidewalk. He went inside, closing the door behind him.He never went outside again for a smoke that night.....