The Habit That Holds Me ( Cough )

Description: The room was silent, the air thick with a heavy, enveloping scent. i was sunk into the couch, my body resting on the cushions, dressed in black leather—tight pants hugging me, jacket open, the fabric close to my skin like a second layer. my ponytail was flawless. between my fingers, i held something that glowed softly, its presence warm and familiar. the tip flickered as i took a long drag, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. a cough followed, a deep sound that rolled through me, something i let pass without much thought. my eyes watered slightly as the thick air floated, swirling in the space before disappearing. beside me on the couch was a crystal object, filled with marks of time—remnants of past moments, a silent testament to my habit. my hands trembled a little, perhaps from the long night, but i held my pose. another cough passed through me, my body leaning forward as i breathed through the waves. i felt it in my chest, a familiar tug i knew well, but i took another drag, letting the sensation stay with me, calm and steady. my voice came out soft, almost a whisper: “you’re not going to leave me, are you?” it was for him, my constant companion, the routine i kept. the cough returned, persistent, and i laughed through it, a low sound that echoed in the silent room.