The cigarette stayed between my fingers long enough for the paper to soften from the damp. I watched rainwater gather at the edge of the hood and slide downward in uneven trails. The forest had stopped looking threatening once viewed through glass.

People assume smoking is about addiction. Mostly it’s about punctuation. Tiny controlled pauses between decisions. I used to smoke after missions because it established sequence.

Before. During. After.

Human beings tolerate violence better when it arrives in chapters. I turned the cigarette once between my fingers before sliding it back into the pack.

The story continues on April 20.

The Geometry of Choice: Book I of The Equilibrium Strain.

©️ 2026 Bob Roland. All rights reserved.