The record player softly hissed and popped, as the coffee maker sputtered. She was standing on her tiptoes reaching into the highest shelf of a cabinet. Her hand searched frantically; her tank top and underwear raised giving her the slightest wedgie.

“Gotcha, bitch!” she whispered, finally feeling the pack of cigarettes she had hid from herself.

Cressida lit her cigarette and took a slow drag. Instantly she was filled with relief and regret. She only smoked when she was alone; so she smoked often. She kept promising herself she would quit, but it had proven to be a losing battle.

The coffee maker beeped. Nothing beat an early morning coffee and a cigarette. A funky jazz tune bopped in the background, and it just felt like a perfect morning. Cressida closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She coughed, “Fuck! Shit! I need to quit smoking.”

Let’s try this again. – she thought.

Cressida closed her eyes, took a deep breath slowly, then exhaled. She listened. She clearly heard the jazz tune playing. The syncopation of the drums made her smile, and her hips began to sway. She took another drag from her cigarette then put it out in the sink.

She turned her body to face the rest of her small home. Cressida’s body began to slowly move like a snake winding side to side. Right, left, right, right… Her hands twirling from her wrists rising above her head. With one foot in front of the other, she sashayed towards the full length mirror in her living room. She pointed at her reflection and giggled, as she salsa danced toward her dancing partner. Cressida smirked and bit her bottom lip, while seductively turning her body. This was a perfect morning.

The song and record came to an end. Silence filled the air. Cressida sighed. Her shoulders slumped. The coffee maker beeped reminding her of her abandoned pot.

I think I’ll have another cigarette.