A Short Story about a Short Story

I hid in the corner, hoping that the edge would keep the wind from fanning the burn too much. I wanted to enjoy it but I could see from the looks of those around me I was violating their sense of morality far too much. There I was in my shorts and NYU hoodie, warm with my own self while they were bundled up as if winter had descended. They crinkled their snobbish noses at a smell they were taught was bad, much like the way they were taught that sex was bad and immoral. They never would admit publicly that in their heart of hearts they really liked it. Oh, in whispers they would but never publicly. We're too proper for that, they'd think.

I eyed my Arturo Fuente Short Story and pondered where life was and where it was going. That would take, I thought, far longer than this cigar. How I wished it was a Long Story or a Novel instead of a Short Story. The wonderful creamy flavour that comes through seems like a temptation that teases us and then, is gone. It was a wonderful burn, even in the Baltimore Harbor wind. The wrapper held all the parts of the Story together in a beautiful form, making it almost sinful to light it up. I eyed the packaging and realized that the old adage of not judging a book by it's cover didn't apply. This cover was a good indication of what I'd find inside.

I went back to reading the latest Cigar Magazine while sipping a Pepsi and drawing on my cigar. The wind didn't bother me. In fact, it took to ignoring me and blustered around everyone else. It was almost as if it enjoyed the scent and wanted others to enjoy it too. The taste was consistent and so good that it wasn't until I noticed my fingers nearly burning as it reached to the most minimal of nubs that I had sadly realized I had reached the end.

I'll have to re-read this Short Story once again.

For the sake of review: 9/10

Purchased at: Cross Street Tobacco in Baltimore