My Gramma. Smokin’ and a-drinkin’, probably a Jack and ginger. 1970’s-ish.
Oh, that face. Oh, the cigarette case with the black cigarette holder, the butane lighter. The way I came to associate the mixed scents of cigarettes, cocktails, chlorine (she loved to swim), and perfume with love.
Oh, the way it gave her lung cancer later and took her away from us.
Miss you, Gramma.
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