The smell of love

When he and she first arrived in this strange city, because of his career, he stayed up late every day and learned to smoke. 

Originally white and neat teeth, because of the smoke and fire all day, no matter what kind of high-grade toothpaste can not wash off the accumulated yellow layer. 

The thick and faint smell of tobacco has stubbornly become a part of his body: his clothes, his hair, his fingers. 

He came gently from behind her, and from a distance, she guessed it was him. 

Because, that smell, she is too familiar. 

The smell is not what she likes. 

Because she didn't like it, she bought him melon seeds, candy, and all kinds of snacks, as long as he could keep his mouth from being invaded by smoke. she also advised him, enumerated the dangers of smoking, and found shocking pictures and posted them on the desktop of his computer. 

She had quarreled with him because he would still smoke secretly when she could not see, and the smell of smoke on his body was proof of it. 

Smoking seems to be more important to him than eating and drinking water. 

Accompanied by cigarettes, he spent one long night after another, and one exquisite design plan after another came into being. 

He said he couldn't do without smoke. 

After thousands of nagging and persuasion, she was a little sad and gave him a final ultimatum: whether you want a cigarette or me, it's up to you. 

He put his arm around her shoulder and said faintly, as for? 

In the last quarrel, she couldn't bear to make a scene, saying that she didn't even have the courage to quit a cigarette for her, so how could she trust her life to him? 

He thought she made a mountain out of a molehill and insisted on taking a cigarette to talk about their love. 

They walked angrily in both directions, and no one looked back. 

A year, not long, but in their hearts, it is like hundreds of centuries. 

Meet again, such as after years. 

Looking at each other for a moment, he saw a completely different her-thin, pale, with short hair. 

On the other hand, he looked better than ever before, with a ruddy face and bright eyes. 

You don't look well (wrong). 

If you don't listen carefully to the same sentence, you can't hear the subtle difference. 

Oh, she smiled faintly, and when she smiled, she habitually pulled out a thin cigarette from the bag at hand. 

Smoke? have one. 

She reached out and handed him one. 

No, I quit six months ago. 

Watching her start a fire skillfully and spit out a ring of smoke, he stayed there: when did he learn it? 

Don't you hate it the most? 

You can't live without it, haven't you quit now? 

For a woman I love. 

He replied softly, six months ago, I found that I still loved her so much, so I listened to her and quit. 

What about you? 

For a man I love. 

She felt a slight pain in her heart, and a year ago, he had left. 

In a year, only through this small cigarette can I touch the smell of him. 

I'm used to his smell.

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