Taking up smoking

Date: 7/27/2017

Can't quite remember the first part, but I remember being in this barn. It's really dirty, but we've been working on cleaning it. I think we'd recently bought the property. There's a bed up in one of the lofts, and there's a bunch of dirt in it. I look around, trying to decide if someone used to stay here. I ponder if I would want to stay here for a night, given that I could clean it up a bit. I look around some more and find an old package of cigarettes in a drawer. I feel a quick jolt of adrenaline. I've always wanted to try smoking, just for fun, to see what it's like, but knew I'd get in huge trouble if I was ever caught buying them. I quickly look out the window. My mom is watering the garden with the hose, and my dad is working on some other landscaping stuff. I shove the cigarettes in my pockets and scuttle out of the barn, claiming I want to go for a walk. My mother is skeptical, but I manage to get away. I barely even make it to the grove of trees at the back of our property before I've got a cigarette out and lit. When I take the first breath of it, it's like I've been waiting for ages. It feels so familiar, so comfortable, like I've smoked all my life. (I have never smoked irl, but I've been doing research for my novel on what it's like, ha!) The cigarettes are old, and super cheapo, so they taste absolutely terrible but I figure I can't be too picky. Then I realize, I'm still quite close to our property line! If the smoke drifts enough for my mom to smell it, I'm going to be dead meat! I start running, trying to find somewhere that I can smoke in peace. Along the way I also realize that I'm going to smell like smoke afterwards--not good. I decide I've got to finish it as fast as I can so that I'll have enough time to walk the smell off me before I head back. I find a very large house, one of our neighbors. There's a bunch of cars parked out front, and a bunch of lights on in the house. I can hear people inside, having some sort of party. I figure that's safe enough, I'll be able to blend in if someone sees me. I crawl around behind a half stone wall by the driveway, and sit on the ground. I can't breath in this cigarette fast enough. I know I should slow down, not take such huge drags, but I can't help it. Part of me feels like this is my first time ever smoking, but part of me feels like an addict--always just need one more breath. Then this dude shows up, and it's legitimately someone I haven't seen irl since probably 1st or 2nd grade. He tries to convince me to stop smoking--he can see the way I just utterly controlled by it--but I refuse. He tries to tell me all these things, like how it's going to kill me because it's poison. I tell him I only wanted to try it out one time, it's not like I'm making a habit of it. He tells me it's a sin, to corrupt my body like that. I tell him I don't think it is. It's like a tattoo, you can choose. I reiterate again that I'm only doing it the one time, just to see what it's like. We keep talking, and I'm feeling more and more guilty every second. I'm mad at this guy for ruining my experience, buzzkill. I eventually had to give up and put out my half finished cigarette, and he took the rest of my pack. Not sure if my mom ever found out, but I'm sure she did. ... I'm in a store (I feel like I've dreamt this place before) and it's like a mix between Walmart and Ross. After a bit, I'm in the back corner, with like automotive supplies and stuff. I know a few of the guys working there, so I stop by to say hello. It's somewhere around 11 at night so pretty much no one is here. I talk to this one guy who is my dream-friend. He's super short, and weird looking, awkward as all get out, and hard to understand because he only ever mumbles. He says something about working two jobs at the store now, in two different departments. I tell him that's great and that I'm proud of him. He leaves, to go to his other job. One of the other guys ask if that was really my friend and I say yes. "That dude is so weird" they say. "Yeah I know" I reply. A little while later, there's a piece of paper on the ground, and all the workers are looking at it, but no one touching it. It's a printed out copy of the Constitution. The one guy gets on the intercom thing and is telling them they've got a code such and such. I ask him about it and he says they're not allowed to touch it. Eventually an old granny comes over and picks it up saying it's hers.