The night grew old as I could not resist a pack of Newports from the Exxon gas station. My mind was flustered with many thoughts, and I’ve never smoked a day in my life. There’s no better way to cope with all the shit I heard tonight. What would make things better is if I had someone to vent to? Nico has his nagging mother and nosey ass friends to gain advice from. But I am a loner. When I was a little boy, I remember crying on the floor as I witness my dad kick my mother in the face with combat boots, and beating her to the bloody pulp. Child protective services placed me in the custody of my grandmother after my father was charged in the strangulation of my mother, when I was only five years old. Since then, I lived with my grams until she died of lung cancer on my twelth birthday. She would say “Abdul, my one & only grandson, please don’t smoke those cigarettes like I did, baby!” When she expressed the advice, it stuck with me for the rest of my life. She’d probably turn in her grave one hundred times at my life now.
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