CRIME SCENE
Abby breathed him in. The smell of soap and warm skin and cigarette smoke combined lingered under her nostrils.
She loved that smell of him, even if she was actually allergic to secondhand smoke. He seemed to be the only one that she could tolerate.
He cannot and will not stop smoking, and so Abby always saw to it that she would take antihistamines every before she went to see him.
Small sacrifices, like not being able to go out with him in broad daylight, the slight twinge of envy she felt whenever she saw lovers walk through malls and parks with their arms intertwined around each other.
His daylight hours do not belong to her, and neither do the nights which she only stole like a common thief from a wife and children whose faces and names she did not want to know anymore.