"do you still smoke?" stan asked, and bill found himself grabbing the notebook to sit on his lap.

bill thought for a moment, but merely decided to tell him the uttermost truth because he was telling him all his secrets tonight.

bill nodded after a moment, but made his hand do a, 'kind of', shake. stan nodded, not wanting to argue with how it could kill him, and stood up to take another lap.

minutes later, stan returned, and bill handed him the notebook.

turned out my father got home early from work, and smelled the smoke from my breath almost immediately. like the humble man he was he knew not to start an argument about it, so we went out to dinner.

it was late for dinner, but we went anyway. my father was loose, real loose, i could say. he didn't do what he was told most of the time, he did it his own way.

so we ate dinner at a restaurant down the road from my old house, a place i would never return to. we started to argue about my breath, and how he didn't want me smoking, but the conversation slowly dropped.

we sat down in a small booth by the window, and after we got our drinks i wouldn't shut my damn mouth.

i just wanted a fight, i remember wanting it, but i don't remember exactly why. so i pushed him, i told him smoking wasn't bad or something to bring in the conversation once again.

it ended with me needing a breather in the restroom. i believe that was the second cause of his death, my big mouth.

"this isn't even a reason, seriously?" stan rolled his eyes at bill, who just simply shrugged, even though he had paragraphs forming for answers in his head.

"finish already, i'm just gonna sit here, i'm tired." stan laid down on the bench, leaning his head on bill's leg, and bill couldn't help but smile.

woah short chapter. sorry it's been so long, i'm gonna hopefully do a double update today if my phone doesn't die. i'm in texas rn btw :))

~ penny (march 31, 2018)