[ WP ] This one , this is going to be my last cigarette

Every morning like clockwork, Carl drives over to his neighborhood corner store and buys a pack. This month he ’ s into Natural American Spirits as he promised his wife he was going to change his habit. Going the natural route is much better than the old Marlboro ’ s he ’ s been burning through, right? At least that was how he reasoned it in his mind. 
 The chime from the bell above the door welcomes Carl inside and Frank, the store owner greets him. “ Morning Carl! Same for you? ” Carl chuckles “ You know it, Frank. Say, this Natural American Spirits is healthier, right? I feel much better after smoking it this past month. Crazy thing, these cigarette inventors. ” 
 
 After exchanging farewells, Carl leaves the corner store, finally getting a start to his day. Cigarette poised between his index and middle fingers, lighter in his left hand, he brings the two together and not much else enters his mind. In this moment, everything is calm. He inhales the chemicals, letting the smoke build up in his mouth, dancing on his tongue before he calmly exhales the smoke. He sighs a sigh of pleasure. Nothing else can quite replicate this joyous feeling for Carl. His wife Vivian, sometimes, sure. But in this moment, everything is calm. He finishes his cigarette, crushes the butt onto the ground and makes his way to work. 
 
 At work, he greets the usual suspects – Lola at the reception ( she ’ s a doll ), Dave at one of the cubicles ( one of his poker buddies ) and a couple of other cubicle dwellers he must pass before reaching his own. Settling down to work, he notices that he has a couple of missed calls and texts from his wife. Not feeling the urgency, he dismisses them for her asking him what he ’ d like for dinner. Mondays are always meal planning days for Vivian. She likes that Mondays are quiet at supermarket. After lunch, he receives a call from a hospital. The doctor at the other end tells him that Vivian is at the hospital and that he should hurry on over. 
 
 Grabbing his jacket and Natural American Spirits, he rushes out the office. Once in the parking lot of the hospital, he lights a cigarette, takes a drag and extinguishes it onto the pavement with the heel of his shoe. He needed a last minute boost to calm his nerves. Racing into the hospital, he finds out that Vivian is in an operating and his consent is needed for the surgeon to remove their baby. 
 
 “ Our WHAT? ” Exclaims Carl. So many thoughts racing through his mind. Why didn ’ t Vivian tell me she was pregnant? Why were n't there any signs? 
 
 He signs the consent and paces the hospital corridors. Vivian will be in there for a couple of hours. There were complications and the baby isn ’ t at full term. 
 
 “ What triggered her labor? ” Carl asks the doctor. 
 
 The doctor could only guess that stress was the trigger. 
 
 “ What if that ’ s why Vivian ’ s wanted me to change up my habits? Maybe that ’ s why she wanted me to quit smoking…Even so, not telling me she ’ s pregnant is so low. What was she hoping to accomplish?! ” Carl is so upset he leaves the hospital to a nearby park. 
 
 The sky has turned grey at this point. Not knowing what else to do or where else to go, Carl turns to his Natural American for comfort – the only substance he knows to turn to. As the cigarette catches flame, Carl suddenly sees his own father flash before his eyes. His father was a smoker, much like Carl. Loving wife, standard American family of two kids and a dog. However, lung cancer took him away far too soon and Carl was far too young to have many great memories of him. The most distinct memory Carl has of his father was his constant coughing. His coughing in the middle of the night that shook the whole house. His hoarse voice that could n't lure teenage Carl to his side. His stained fingers that Carl did n't want teaching him how to play the piano. Carl hated remembering his father in this light. And he would hate for his child to remember him in the same vein. So Carl resolves that this drag, this one, this is going to be my last cigarette. 

