i had a cigarette and looked at the cupboard of the kitchen , the wall beyond the stovetop , held my breath to see if i could hear even a creak of sound from thirteen , some evidence someone had gone in while id been in the throes of anxiety , remorse , feeble panic , whatever it could be called , but heard nothing and i let smoke a long time through the clot of my nose , tasted blood , smoke , soured old breath , new breath just as sour .