A Letter to Dear Smoker-Boy
So many years has gone past but I cannot forget my little red-hair girl and her one and only letter to me … …
When I first saw you, I was struck by your height and broad shoulders. Your twinkling eyes and easy laughter brought a blush to my cheeks. You were with your friends, and they all seemed to like you.
I was feeling shy, because I never expected to meet someone like you. When my friends invited me to join them, I was hesitating between joining them and cuddling down with a good book. But my doubts vanished when you appeared. I believe that I might have a good time out here after all. We were all introduced and everyone seemed to be having a great time, laughing and joking. I caught you stealing glances at me. And I blushed more when our eyes accidentally met.
Suddenly, you walked away from the group. I was a little surprised. But your friends looked knowingly at each other. “Going for a breath of fresh air…” was what they said. It dawned on me then, you smoked. At first, I was confused. You seemed to be such a well-balanced person. Pleasant, polite, humorous and just plain nice. I thought you were strong and steady, so I did not understand why you needed the crutch of a cigarette.
But then, I realised that I was being too hasty to judge you. I should try to accept you for who you are. Over time, as we all got to know each other better, I accepted a date from you. We talked, we laughed, we held hands. I really thought we could make something together.
But it all ended that night. There was a tangy smell floating about you. I realised it was the smell of cigarettes. Even though you did not smoke the whole time you were with me. Then, when you sent me home, I was so looking forward to our first kiss. But it was not to be.
I am sorry. You are smart, good looking (at least to me you are!) and we really click well together. But when your mouth moved near mine, the smell was over-powering. If you did not smoke the whole time we were together, and the smell was so strong; I shudder to think what will happen if you did smoke. We might have made it. We might still make it. If you could only choose, to kiss the cigarette or to kiss me.
I don’t know how to tell you in person, so I chose to write. I’m sorry I will not be there tomorrow. By the time, Chelsea (my room mate) dropped this to your place, I’m already on the train to meet my sister.
So long, take care.
Don’t let this happen to you!
