A little after midnight, we go outside to smoke.

"You know, every day I see people isolate themselves from the building just so they can get their fix," he gestures with the cigarette in his hand, "and every day I swear I'm not going to become them."

A pause. I think, you are what you hate and contemplate the cigarette in my hand. I say nothing.

"If I ever become addicted to these, I want you to do this." He takes the cigarette between his fingers as though it's a piece of chalk and points towards the soft underbelly of his arm. I look away, afraid he had actually held it to arm without flinching.

Turning back a second later, "you didn't really do that, did you?"

"No," shaking his head, "I was just demonstrating."

:~:

She rolls over to face the wall and throws the cover over her head. "I'm going home!"

"Yeah," I continue to look in her direction, "home is in bed." Again, the cover is thrown from over her head and she turns back to face the three of us seated opposite her.

"No, home is in bed with someone else."

"True," I nod.

From the others, "..." and the subject changes.

:~:

Happy "one year" Anniversary.