windowsill
"Come on," he said. "Forget about all that senior shit. I know you have a cigarette.""What's a cigarette?" I asked him.
"Don't fuck around. It's 11:30, I've been studying hard. I know you have one. I'm not going to tell on you, just give it to me."
"Alright, come on."
He and I climbed out on the 8" windowsill, two floors up, and shut the window behind us so the smell wouldn't go inside. I can't remember why I thought that was a good idea, but I did it all the time.
"Ahhh," he inhaled as he lit his. "Nothing like a cigarette."
The cold snuck into us there on our windowsill, and we didn't get caught. I was eighteen years old.
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