Richard let the smoke pass through his lungs, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.
Roxton's eyes were bloodshot; he had not slept all night.
Richard reached forward and took the cigarette from Roxton's chest pocket, tossing it into the grass on the left side of the stairs.
He had already cleaned up the cigarettes off the ground once and had just bought a whole pack of beer.
If you must numb your brain, at least choose something that is less harmful to your body.
Roxton had never smoked before today, and Richard hoped that he would not smoke in the future either.
Richard also opened a bottle of wine, extinguishing the less-than-a-third smoked cigarette from his mouth and quietly accompanied his good friend at his side.
Roxton's voice was unusually hoarse:
"Does any of this make sense?"
Richard's voice was full of reason:
"Everything has a meaning."
Roxton poured wine into his mouth, and while coughing with his congested throat, he said:
