written by: P.A. O’Neil
The other day while opening a new box of toothpaste, I harkened back to a conversation with a fellow writer. He mentioned how trivial things in life could bring a sense of comfort, as in how the new tube of toothpaste felt cradled in his palm.
Sliding the tube into my hand, I pondered the experience. There it was, this virgin casing holding a product I would use twice a day, yet never give a second thought. It was so round, so firm, so fully-packed, and I—wait a minute, that’s the description for a cigarette.
Oh, sigh, never mind.
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