Mom prepared me something to eat, and afterwards, I tidied up the kitchen before heading out to the front veranda for a cigarette.
“So, how long has this been going on?” Mom asked as she settled beside me on the well-worn couch, her curiosity evident.
“For a couple of months,” I said, glancing out at the overcast sky. “It started off just every once in a while, but as Martha’s situation worsened, I found myself reaching for cigarettes more often.”
“I’ve heard it can really help relieve stress,” she remarked thoughtfully, absentmindedly twisting a strand of hair around her finger.
“Honestly, I needed something,” I replied, almost defensively. “Otherwise, I’d probably be drowning my sorrows in alcohol by now.” The weight of my words lingered in the air.
Mom nodded, a wry smile breaki
