Work Text:
Within his mind he could imagine nothing else but the feel of a fresh cigarette between his lips, the taste of that first drag as the smoke hit the back of his throat and the calm that accompanied it. Stuck in heavy traffic with his irritation growing rapidly, he had no choice but to endure the aching in his chest and the dryness of his mouth. Being idle heightened his craving and it made focusing on the road almost impossible. Snaking ahead of him was a long queue of stationary cars with their brake lights blazing; equally irritated drivers who all needed to get somewhere and were tired of being delayed.
This congestion was to be expected. Every single Friday was exactly the damn same, and the only thing that made this Friday any different was the fact that it was also Christmas Eve. He would’ve liked to have spent the day at home but, as it happened, research did not often permit the luxury of taking days off, especially when important grant deadlines were looming. Recently, writing was becoming tiresome. The graduates were feeling the end-of-year crash too, their young faces dull and impassive under the lights of his lab as they busied themselves with their work. The mood had elevated somewhat in the late morning over coffee; he’d heard their laughter rippling over the hum of his machinery as he’d stood outside and smoked in the rain. He’d insisted that they all stay at home tomorrow unless working in the lab was unavoidable.
It would be his son’s first Christmas. The tiny boy, only a few months old and already sporting a full head of auburn hair, would not remember the crudely dressed white pine in the corner with its glittered baubles and fairy lights, the tinsel that lined their old television, the cards along the mantelpiece of the fireplace. Nonetheless, they would show him his gifts, as rudimentary as they might be, and cradle him in their love as they celebrated together. Over the years he would begin to understand.
You can see he’s your son. He fondly remembered his wife telling him. It’s his eyes. He’s yours; make no mistake.
There was still no sign of movement from the cars up in front, and from the darkening sky it looked as though it might start to rain again. His grip was tightening on the steering wheel. The overwhelming desire to get out of the car and light one up ached in the back of his mind and it grew heavier with every passing minute. Without a doubt, getting caught in rush hour tailbacks was a form of hell on earth. Amidst the garish headlights and the incessant honking that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire city, he closed his eyes. The position he held within his institution was not earning him enough money to continue this sort of lifestyle. The only thing he needed more than a cigarette was a professorship.
Well, maybe next year.