Cigarette Butts
// Smoking, to her father, came as naturally as breathing. He smoked and breathed and breathed and smoked. And each time he was away, she'd sneak into the ashtray and pick the filter butts. She had a liking for the smell of cigarettes and loved it more when her fingers smelled of them. But, this story isn't about her father, his smoking, or her sniffing - actually, it's about cigarettes and him. She doesn't smoke, was never tempted to. He's been smoking for the last three months now, has been trying to kick the butt. They spend their cigarette breaks together, in the company of one other office colleagues. He shares his cigarette with the colleague who wears a nude gloss. And each time, as their fingers kiss while handing the cigarette to each other, she feels the ash of jealousy being smeared on her insides. She wonders what his cigarette tastes like - him, the colleague, the women he makes love to, rum, leftover tea, half-burnt lips - all this while she catches ...