I Meant To Give Up Smoking When I Was Twenty

Filty habit, I can’t believe I’m still doing it. I meant to give it up by the time I was done with my twenties, that was the promise I made myself, that I’d be done with that too, which I broke. It’s hard to stop, you know, once you’ve got intrenched into it.

I’ve got Will Henry at work whose also in denial, trying to hide it from himself, or the world, or both.

He messages me now. “You wanna head out?” It doesn’t help.

We hide out the back on Flinders Lane, with the finance jocks, and the other lawyers.

Kaye keeps mints in her desk now. “Here,” she says when I come back in.

At least I’m not as bad as Will Henry, he kind of runs away from the smoke thinking he’ll smell of it, if he doesn’t.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I don’t want my partner to smell it on me, if I can help it.”

“Oh, stop it, you look stupid.”

“I reckon it helps.”

Still, Will has a nice tight little arse, and it’s hot to watch all the muscles in his legs working as he does circles.

“He a friend of yours,” says Carl, one of the finance guys from Farleys.

I raise my eyebrows. Carl Laughs.

“You won’t be laughing when I make partner, both of you.”

“Oh yeah,” says Carl.

“At a record young age,” adds Will.