To paraphrase Freud:
"Sometimes, it really is just an old, stained ashtray".
However, it does remind me of a certain someone -- an exquisite, beautiful someone I felt very close to, despite the differences in our respective circumstances -- because she understood my needs, and I understood hers.
Our families would not have undertstood; we had to meet in secret, away from disapproving eyes -- and cop a smoke together.
I've quit since then, but she never did -- wonder whose cigarettes she's lighting now...
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