I inhaled and then coughed with uncontrollable violence as the carbon monoxide ravaged my lungs. “Jeez man! How can you smoke these menthol things?”
Ryan shrugged with a total indifference followed only by a hard swallow of some Jack.
I spat. “It’s like smoking fucking eucalyptus or something.”
We both laughed, I suffered through the mint flavored smoke, and Ryan handed me the bottle to wash out the taste. As my cigarette slowly burned, Ryan slid his newly obtained running shoes onto his feet and inspected them carefully.
“BECAUSE” was sprayed, in rust-colored paint, upon the side of one of the cement walls. The simplicity of the message held my attention while Ryan laced up the shoes. I formed the word with my lips and thought, “Because what?”
“It’s almost over, man.” The words slipped past Ryan’s cigarette.
“What is?” I spat again at the concrete floor.
“This.” Ryan motioned with his hand at the surrounding office buildings. “You’re gone in a week and a half. You think it’ll be like this when you come back? If you come back.”
I didn’t want to leave. I stubbed out my cancer-stick and mumbled, “Of course I’m coming back.”