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Second-hand Smoke (continued)

 

They never seem to materialize through the haze of smoke that surrounds the public transport sites. Fed up with the absence of the anti-smoking guardians of the law, I decided to try and use citizen moral enforcement to arrest the smoking, if not the smokers.

 

My first foray as an anti-smoking patrolman was when I noticed a smoker blowing wreaths of smoke adjacent to a public transit stop. I informed the smoker of the new anti-smoking law and requested the person to comply or move further away. The smoker was peeved but ungraciously stomped out the cigarette after I also had my fill of the lingering clouds of unfiltered tobacco.

 

The second instance when I tried to ensure that I would not share the second-hand smoke ended with the smoker in question rudely suggesting to me to butt out as he took quick and furious drags on his cigarette butt. Though I was quick to move away and did not enjoy a lungful of smoke, I was fuming nevertheless.

 

The third time around, I kept my distance from the smoking specimen, but uttered a loud plea to clear the air between us. The smoker did not even bother to acknowledge my heartfelt request but continued to puff away, interspersed with bouts of a hacking cough.

 

I was burnt out in my attempts to end this persistent and painful preoccupation but I seem to be hooked on avoiding second-hand smoke. Every now and then I seem to break free and am able to breathe freely but every time I think back on these incidents, the smoke gets in my eyes.

 

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