I watched him smoke. I had never wanted to run so much in my life. What was his happiness and where did it come from? Could that cigarette really hold so much power? "Put it down!" I begged him, with no luck. That cigarette sure had more power over him than I did. I watched him as he blew smoke rings... one right after another. Beer in hand and fire in his mouth, he could rule the world. "How much more?" I thought to myself.
When I first laid eyes on him he wore a leather jacket and a frown. Troubled he seemed, troubled he turned out to be. I didn't mind a "bad boy", really I didn't... I just didn't know how to handle one. Handle one without losing myself in the mix. Could I really do it?