STIFFICULTY

The gray smoke from the last cigarette took on a lifeless appearance. It filled the empty space, devoid of joy and hope. He sped along his own path, an endless road free from obstacles. Unlimited by horizons, he reveled in the freedom granted him and grew in power, becoming the star guest of the cramped establishment. He slowly merged with his carcinogenic companions, issuing from nameless mouths, creating lasting bonds of nicotine addiction. After a while, however, the smoke from that last cigarette began to clearly dominate the rest, as if trying to maintain his uniqueness and independence. He was in the company of his brothers, but in reality, he was in a completely different dimension, one reserved only for himself. Yet the smell of the remaining cigarettes drew him in, and he desperately longed to be part of this stifling company. However, fear and shyness outweighed the fear of loneliness, and the cloud of smoke continued to wade through its own bitter world. Every so often, she would greet the doorway with transparent jugs filled with a bright yellow liquor. She found refuge there, but after a while, she would leave this place of fleeting, disastrous happiness, striving to find her own place in the world. She slowly lost hope for a happy ending to her wanderings, and the thought of limitless space gradually began to terrify her.

Bored with its own appearance and existence, the cloud of smoke began to take on a human shape. Slowly, hands formed. Initially skeletonized, the limbs quickly began to gain strength and a delicate beauty. The skin on her hands became increasingly smooth, and her nails gleamed in the glow of the yellow light, overwhelming the gray smoke swaying to the rhythm of the music. Shapely legs emerged just above the bar. Hips, full of femininity and strength, spun around the ashtray, occasionally brushing against its mother, the lighter. Dazzled by its emerging beauty, the lighter burst forth with a crimson flame invisible to all. Slowly, from the shapeless cloud, firm, vigorous thighs emerged, giving rise to the rest of those incredible limbs. The feet were as smooth as the hands, gently lifting from the table, awaiting the complete birth of their owner, who was slowly becoming a goddess of this cloudy land. The face took on the expression of a woman, both hard and fragile. Luscious lips remained motionless, aware that they might never open. They quivered only slightly, wanting to cry out for their empty land. Just above them, a graceful nose, with small holes at the bottom, gleamed with its harmony. Every so often, smoke escaped, transforming into eyes weeping over their fate. Their pupils gazed longingly into the empty space, completely oblivious to the smoke from the remaining cigarettes. A storm of gray-auburn hair fell over those sorrowful eyes, hugging their necks and curling around divine shoulders.

As breasts emerged from the smoke, all the other cigarettes in the room began to burn more intensely. The smoke rising from them was increasingly edgy and acrid. He involuntarily moved toward this graceful, alluring apparition. They, too, began to take human form. The room was filled with males. Some large and muscular, others of average stature. All were united by an incredible arousal that deprived them of their senses. They glided around their object of desire, dancing their own nicotine mating dance. However, they were completely unnoticed by the figure, whose mind was still in a completely different dimension. Alarmed by the increasing amount of smoke, she began to move toward the half-open window.

When she emerged, the bar was already in the throes of a general brawl among her admirers. By far the most common method of fighting among the cigarette-smoking men was strangulation. Many necks were wrapped in clenching hands, professionally carrying out the murder. The floor slowly filled with bodies, which gradually dissolved, leaving only an acrid smell behind. All this happened outside the world of the being who had caused all this cruelty. Now that she was outside, she had no other member of her species around her. However, loneliness didn't bother her so much. She was slowly becoming accustomed to her fate, and hope, supposedly the last to die, began to fall gravely ill. She headed toward the turbulent sea, which resounded with a hissing sound as it crashed against the gentle beach. Seeking peace, the apparition saw in that place an uninhabited land of her own happiness, a tomb of eternal peace, where her own acceptance would be born with the end of existence. Filled with hopelessness and loneliness, she longed to achieve the happiness of the end of her existence as quickly as possible. All this was due to inexplicable complexes she had developed for reasons unknown to anyone. These were the source of her deepening depression, which led her towards destruction. In fact, she was probably born an adopted child of sadness and dejection. Created to suffer, she never considered the happiness that allowed humanity to survive to this day. Perhaps her uniqueness prevented her from enjoying the things most people cherish. Individuality has always been a source of immense suffering, which periodically gained an unimaginable force, striving for self-destruction. Despising the ordinary, she was unable to find happiness in the grayness of everyday life, falling victim to her own, somewhat twisted, vision of an ideal world. She wandered without hope for her own happiness in a world that, from the very beginning, seemed to have given her no chance of fulfillment. All talents seemed to be fictions of people who invented their own uniqueness for their own benefit. Meeting someone in such a hopeless situation, and of the opposite sex to boot, was the source of many a tear. Similarly, the gray goddess didn't believe in combining her own smoke with someone worthy of her replica of divine beauty. Dreams of a group of children playing made her depressed, deepening with each passing second. Despite her many admirers, she chose solitude and peace, the feelings in which she felt most comfortable.

A slight embarrassment slowly crept over her. Total isolation never brought joy to anyone, especially someone for whom it was the only feeling they knew. She longed to meet someone like herself. On the other hand, however, she was immensely afraid of commitment, so often cut by the whistling sword of failure. In truth, she had slowly lost track of what she truly expected from life, which was slowly turning into aimless lethargy. She wondered how her dead admirers must have felt, vanishing somewhere in the crisp sea air. Their desire was doomed from the start. Despite this, their instincts drove them toward the emerging, murderous beauty. They died with smiles on their faces, for they could witness divinity. Unlike grayness, the sight of God's radiance could make even death the most beautiful moment of an otherwise unexciting life. All because of a few smooth features whose inner selves they would never know. Yet the image of them had always existed in men's minds. Beautiful women have always seemed delicate, sincere, giving birth to wise and strong offspring. Every man dreams of his family surviving, flourishing in happiness and universal recognition.

No one wants to be alone, so why do so many remain in a state of complete detachment from their surroundings? Of course, it's all because of this foolish, idealistic vision of the world. The question remains: is it worth being yourself if your own being doesn't allow for a lasting sense of joy?

Whatever the answer, the tobacco apparition had no intention of changing. Perhaps this source of pride confined her to her own world, which brought her nothing but suffering. She moved through narrow streets, oblivious to anything but her own misfortune. She exemplified the meaninglessness of existence, in which everything goes according to its owner's will, yet brought no peace of mind. As she drifted toward the waves, the hope of reaching a haven began to fade. A full moon illuminated this final path to old age and hastened death. The beach beckoned with its golden glow, where the gray smoke slowly thinned with each step. Noticing the end of her existence, the gray goddess indifferently submitted to the gentle breeze from the sea. She weakened and shrunk with each gust, merging with the sea air. The crashing waves on the shore beat out a mournful march, and seagulls wept for another life wasted. In this setting, the apparition vanished forever, leaving behind only ashes in an ashtray in the small, stuffy establishment.