I was 15. Just split with my girl. Felt like I needed a break, just to get my head around things. I skipped the school that day, walked into the coffee bar, sat down and got myself my regular drink - a proper turkish brew in a large glass with some milk on the side and a dash of Irish cream mixed in. Girl next table was smoking this long, thin, French cigarette in brown paper. The smoke swirled around my glass, mixed with aroma of the coffee and sweetly kissed me on the nose. Bouquette. Palette. I knew I found what I was looking for. I found what I needed.
Many years later, and a long time from now, with another heartache I left my smoking habit behind with a tax counter solid at 40 cigarettes a day. It's better that way. I got used to my body being smoke and nicotine free. But to this day, to anyone who asks, I will quietly admit. Smoking was the best bad habit I have had a chance to try in my life. Given a choice of just one, I would rather smoke than drink. And if I found out tomorrow I was of ill health and had limited time to live, pack of cigarettes would be the first thing I'd buy.