Winter 2011

Miss D. Smokes

She gave her Baby Jane cackle, then quieted down, leaned forward, and
lighted an unfiltered Philip Morris cigarette by striking a kitchen match under
          the table.

She snubbed out her cigarette, rose, and paced back and forth, then
stopped in front of me, cleaned my ashtray, and squinted her eyes.

She snubbed out her cigarette.
She puffed for a long moment.

She lighted a cigarette, striking the match under the table again, then went on
          earnestly, without a trace of bitterness.
Over another scotch Miss D. lit another Philip Morris.

She fiddled with the cigarette.
She lighted another Philip Morris.

She waved a cigarette.
She lighted a cigarette.

She lighted a cigarette and blew the smoke to the ceiling.
She hurriedly lighted a cigarette, eager to explain.
She was trying to cut down on smoking and snubbed out her cigarette in a
          large tray.
Bette rolled her eyes to the ceiling and reached for a cigarette.
She lighted a Philip Morris from a pale blue Bic that matched her dress.
She had given up kitchen matches when one had flipped out of her hand and
          caught a sofa pillow on fire.

She lighted up, then laughed.



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