It’s so cold at 4am but for some reason I just want to have a smoke in the terrace. Put on my coat and slippers and slightly slide out the door. It’s not only freaking cold, but is raining. Fuck. Still I put myself right in the frame of the terrace door and lit a cigarette. Some people are walking under the rain. I wonder where they come from but I guess they are heading home. Walk of shame. Or not. The nicotine is supposed to quench anxiety but I couldn’t care less about that. I’m looking for a guilty pleasure. The pleasure is not only the act of smoking, but smoking in the middle of the night under the most extreme cold in the terrace looking at people passing by while I’m thinking a thousand things and sometimes nothing at all. Recently though, I stopped smoking. Oh man, I do miss those 4am moments in the terrace.