Fifteen Years Smoke-Free, Now Tempted to Light Up Again

Sunday Hangover: Fifteen Years Smoke-Free, and the Cravings Return

A typical Sunday. On a forum, a participant confesses to a bit of a hangover, and another details their plan: breakfast, a light walk to the bakery, and an afternoon concert. The one nursing the hangover adds their own remedy, the white stuff that doesn't cause a stomach ache. That's a perfect Sunday. Or the saddest day of the week, depending on who you ask.

Because the same ritual can be seen in two ways. Some argue that a day like this, without any bumps, is exactly what's needed after a long night. And others, looking at that same Sunday, declare it 'just another day, I'd even say it's sad'. The sustancia ilegal isn't in the plan, it's in the mood with which you view it.

The Cigarette Left Behind, Never Buried

The conversation soon turns to the usual topic: what did one put into their body, and what do they promise not to do again. And there, the morning's confession appears. One clarifies that they've never smoked a joint in their life nor sniffed glue, that their thing was different: lighting up a whole cigarette, a Marlboro, blond tobacco.

The detail is surprising when they add the number. Fifteen years without smoking. Fifteen. And immediately after, they admit that precisely today, they intend to light one up again.

Why a Sunday Holds Up or Falls Apart

The walk to buy bread and the afternoon concert are small anchors that sustain the day. When they fail, the Sunday becomes a long day. And when everything falls into place, no one remembers that it exists.

The story concludes with the morning's own account: fifteen years without smoking, and today they intend to light another one.