He smokes. He drinks. He suffers.
He was one of the icons in the town known for his friendliness, compassion and cooking skills. He lives a the heart of the place, open for business to the hungry citizens. But behind his smile is a suffering man widowed by his wife.
After the years of being alone, he was consumed by material things. Indulging himself to alcohol and cigarettes. One pack per day and two bottles per night. No one can blame him for such thing for everyone knew what he’s going through. He sold his business for a not-so-big fortune to satisfy his needs.
He considered himself as a good-for-nothing man in the outskirts of town. He was never a beggar- that I can assure, but deep inside, he longs for something greater than a peasant asking for food.
Smoking. Drinking. Eating. Sleeping. His daily routines were composed of beating his lungs with nicotine and dumping his liver with alcohol. He was devastated not just inside but also physiologically speaking. He seems to find happiness in a cigarette stick and a bottle of beer. He has his own paradise filled with choking smoke and dizzy lines.
It was not after 9 years when all of him gave up. His mind and body tended to stop supporting all the burden and then he passed away. His problems affected him greatly and fate needed to do something about it. Now he can find happiness not with a lighter or a stick, not with a glass and a bottle of beer but with God and his wife up above.