A lovely lady who needs her cigarette lit to pull that dirty, pleasurable, relaxing smoke into her desperate lungs. It’s become so easy to keep lighting them. Far too often. She just can’t help herself. They’re so easy to buy. So easy to feel the smoke in her lungs melting her anxieties away. She knows she should stop. It’s just so difficult and worryingly… a growing part of her doesn’t want to give them up. Would it be so bad if she didn’t?
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