Writing a prompt. "You are the last smoker alive in the planet" "The quit smoking" ads get personal.

Sam's alarm clock clicked on like it did every morning, playing the local sports talk radio station.

"Good morning, Sam! It's a beautiful day out there. Just the kind of day to finally drop that nasty habit. With NicoNever patches, you can finally move on with your life. No more dirty looks. Your teeth will whiten, and you can finally breathe that fresh air. NicoNever patches. They'll save your life," the clock radio blared.

Sam groaned into his pillow. He groped for the clock, hitting the snooze button. Maybe today should be the day, Sam thought. At least it would get everyone off my back.

The alarm clock kicked on again, this time with a perfectly timed ad for Just Quit gum, flavored with Sam's favorite cherry flavoring. Sam climbed out of bed, and shut the clock off. He showered, and dressed, then hopped on his laptop to check his Facebook before heading to work.

"SMOKING SUPPORTS TERRORISM, SAM," one of the sponsored posts at the top of his feed read. Sam rolled his eyes. He snapped his laptop shut, and lit up a cigarette out of spite. Halfway through the cigarette, Sam checked his watch. "Shit," he said aloud. He crushed out the cigarette, and jogged out of the house to his bus stop.

He made it just as the bus arrived.

"Surprised you can even jog, Sam. What with your-" Sam flashed his bus pass and walked past the driver lecturing him. Sam took a seat in the back.

"What's that smell, Mom?" a little girl in the seat in front of him asked.

"That's the smell of Sam trying to kill himself, sweetheart," the little girl's mother answered.

A small head popped up over the seat in front of him, looking Sam straight in the eye. "Why do you want to kill yourself Mr. Sam?" she asked innocently.

"I don't. I just like to relax with a cigarette sometimes," Sam answered. "But some self-righteous people really think that it's their job to tell me how to live. Do you know what self-righteous means?"

The mother picked the little girl up, and moved to another seat, glaring at Sam.

Sam went to work, where he endured more constant chastisement for his 'bad habit.' He couldn't smoke at work, that had been outlawed long ago. Same as smoking in bars, restaurants, parks, open spaces, and, ultimately, anywhere that wasn't a personal residence. But during long, trying mornings, like the one Sam was having, he snuck out behind the building to have a quick smoke.

Sam was letting out a deep breath of smoke when one of his co-workers stepped out.

"Hey Sam," Penny said. Sam moved quickly to hide his cigarette. "Don't worry about it," she continued. "Most of us already know you sneak out here sometimes."

Sam slumped his shoulders, then took another drag. "So are you here to tell me to quit too?"

"No," she said. "Just getting some fresh air. Been a shitty morning. Figured no one else would be out here on account of, well, you."

Sam smiled. Her honesty was refreshing.

After a couple minutes of silence, Penny spoke. "Why don't you quit? It must be exhausting to have everyone on your case all the time."

"It is," Sam answered. "I've definitely thought about it. I even thought about it this morning. But something about it all just rubs me the wrong way. I'm not hurting anybody, no matter what everyone claims, and I'm not supporting terrorism. I'm just smoking a cigarette. Yes, it might cause me to die from cancer, but I get to make that choice for myself. I guess I keep doing it to hold on to that little bit of freedom."

"Or rebellion," Penny observed.

"Or that. But fuck it, that's my call too. It helps me relax, so I'm going to keep doing it until it's not worth it."

Penny nodded, seeming to think his words over. The two of them were quiet again.

It was Penny who broke the silence again. "Can I try one?"