I noticed that he was wearing a duffle coat. A duffle coat! Surely they were the preserve of children and small bears?
We started to walk downhill together and he took out a packet of cigarettes, offered me one.
I reared back from the packet. “How disgusting,” I said. Undeterred, he lit up.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Filthy habit, I know.” “It is,” I said.
You’ll die years earlier than you would have otherwise, probably from cancer or heart disease.
You won’t see the effects on your heart or your lungs for a while, but you’ll notice it in your mouth—gum disease, loss of teeth—
and you’ve already got the smoker’s characteristically dull, prematurely lined skin.
The chemical constitution of cigarettes includes cyanide and ammonia, you know.
Do you really want to willingly ingest such toxic substances?”
“You seem to know an awful lot about fags for a nonsmoker,” he said, blowing a noxious cloud of carcinogens from between his thin lips.
I did briefly consider taking up smoking,I admitted,but I thoroughly research all activities before commencement,
and smoking did not in the end seem to me to be a viable or sensible pastime.
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