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Wow! She is driving a sporty car. I wonder if she is as sporting as the car. By the way, my car model is the same as hers.
After being briefed by the HR personnel, my manager brings me to the department. She is in the same department too. What a coincidence. Though she is small in size, but that does not make her less sporting. She is always cheerful and helpful. Best of all, she does not have a boyfriend.
I purposely let other female colleagues know that I have a crush on her. She must have known it by now. I want to show her how manly I am. I help her whenever I can and spend time with her whenever I can. She smiles more towards me. It is a good sign.
Still, there is no improvement on the love relationship. I wonder why. Is she too shy? Girls are generally shy in this aspect. They want boys to take the initiative. Maybe I should take the initiative to ask her out.
“Hissss…” the smoke in the dustbin is slowly dying out. She pours water on the smoke! How can she do that? I am talking to other male colleagues and enjoying our smoking time outside our office. And, there she is, holding a cup of water and pours into the dustbin. What is she trying to do? Is she crazy?
Thus, the love relationship never blossoms. She is the one who puts out the fire.
After a year, I resign. On my last day, I go through the stuff in my drawers. I find some sweets with a note.
“I am allergic to smoke smell. Furthermore, smoking is bad for your health. The sweets are for you to clean your breath, to think of me.”
Ah, what have I missed? If I quit smoking, will we be together now? I lose, because of smoking. Everything is too late now because she has resigned one month earlier.
Note to myself
This is the final part of the anti-smoking serial. Though the last assignment is unexpected, but I manage to write about the lost of love because of smoking. I write it from the view of a boy, who is a smoker. Though I am not a smoker, nor a boy, I hope it brings out the message. For smokers out there, which is more important? Smoking, or the love of your life?
You take out the gun, your hands’re trembling
You pull the trigger, you’re shocked
The person is killed
There is fear inside you
Yet, you are thrilled
You kill more and more
You are addicted
You have found the love of your life — Killing
Note to myself
Another quick production of poem without much editing. I am not a smoker. I have this idea from a Cantonese movie where a man finds the thrill of killing people after his first killing. The killing metaphor is just like the smoker’s killing.
Smokers may not realize how much the life of a non-smoker has changed. The least that a smoker can do to his / her loved ones, is not to kill them a.k.a. smokes in front of them.