I flipped my head upside down while I was blow drying my hair this morning. My eyes fixed themselves to a faint circular scar on my thigh. It took only a second to recall the incident.
I was in the back seat of a trashed Subaru wind blowing my hair in every direction. My buddy Stin lit his fag and started to puff. Minutes later he flicked the ash out of the window. The wind however didn’t see this appropriate or suiting, so it spit the ash right back. Unfortunately instead of laying itself on the perpetrator it took a liking to the back seat, specifically my thigh. Burnt right through my jeans (surprisingly) and into my flesh.
While remembering this ridiculousness a flash of anger infiltrated my conscience. Why was I the one who got burned? I wasn’t the one smoking- hell I don’t even like cigarettes! Surely this was undeserved!
Then I realized how silly I was.
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