I pressed the cigarette between my quivering lips, taking one last drag, sucking down to the filter. Simultaneously I blew the smoke from my lungs up toward the bathroom vent and turned on the sink. Rinsing away the flame, the porcelain white sink was now scattered with ash. Shades of gray were all I could see.
I sauntered into the bedroom to find the box of cereal I'd packed. I sat on the bed and picked at the tiny green marshmallows inside hoping that they could satisfy the growling of my stomach. But I had no luck, with each bite my hunger intensified. If only I would have had the energy to put on a pair of pants over his favorite black lace panties and throw on a jacket, the whole situation could have been avoided.
The tears were clouding my vision. I couldn't tell right from left or up from down. How was I supposed to do something as complicated as getting dressed? How could I find the hotel elevator and walk down the block to get food. Surely this eating thing was for someone far more capable than me.
Instead, I grabbed the make-shift ashtray from the dresser and pulled it close to my face. The scent was still there to comfort me. All I had left of him was a roach. And at that moment, I had an epiphany. I took the plastic bag from the ice bucket and secured it around the smoke detector with a hair tie, pressed another Camel between my lips and lit up. I smoked until the pain in my lungs rivaled that of the pain in my chest.
