Break Time

Since I began my journey into the work world there has been this odd, hidden message that only smokers have stress. Doesn't seem to matter where I go. That always seems to be the case. It's almost as if I get punished for having a healthier lifestyle. When we are young , we are told smoking is one of the worst possible things we could do. Some hear this , and knowingly deviate. They may be able to hide their vice for a few weeks, months, or even years. Eventually they do get caught. They are met with scorn and outrage. They become ostracized because their habit is vile in the eyes of many. After some time, they are allowed back into society. Everyone accepts that this is now part of their character. The individual could change if they wanted to, but being that they are a victim they can't. So, we now feel sympathy. We give them all the cigarette breaks they need. This is how they cope. In the mail room, no higher ups ask if you smoke. In fact, you are allowed to take as many breaks as you need. But when you do so, a co worker always eyes you funny. You can tell he's thinking "what's he doing? He doesn't smoke." To hell with them though. I'm outside whether they like it or not. Maybe the open air will help me think. Olivia rushes outside. "You come out for a smoke too?" I joke. She smiles briefly. "Did you see something strange?" She asks. "Like a talking fly?" She shakes her head. "No." "What?" I ask. "I'd rather just show you because if you can also see it that means I'm not going crazy." "Ok . Let's go."