this morning #1986.

this morning, his coat was infused through & through with the scents of fresh smoke layered on top of stale tobacco notes. as he sat at his desk, the odor began to float away from his body, permeating the space. not that he noticed. it’s rather difficult to smell yourself & he’d long since lost his ability to smell much of anything anyhow. that particular sense had been slowly toasted away by thousands of cigarettes over decades of smoking. it was just part of who he was. a sign of what he’d become. as such, no one bothered to point it out to him. not anymore. what would be the point? it was ingrained. nothing short of him stopping smoking would make the side effect stench of the habit go away.