"Mo?" I turned and saw my mother, who for the umpteenth time had caught me crying and smoking on the terrace. "Hi mom..." I said in a dark tone. "Doesn't that hurt?" I took a drag and then said "Yes mom, I know, smoking is bad" - "It doesn't hurt...staying there still, inhaling that smoke that should distract you, and which instead brings back in you all those memories that hurt. You say you smoke to not think, but it's impossible...