He had always wanted to get away // he knew this at age nine / his first escape was when he took one of his father’s Pall Mall cigarettes and smoked it while he walked along the Sacramento River / where the weeds were taller than him and it was October and their freshness and soft green texture had begun to turn to brittle and brown and the wind, which was not yet cold, made them speak in faint raspy voices // there, while he smoked, the nicotine introduced him to the real self
Short Stories
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I really like the part where you explain him walking along the river with the cigarette, the texture and color of the weeds, and the temperature in the setting. That small portion really jumped out at me because you sound like a writer in the way you accurately describe the setting with the senses. Good job!
I like the subtle nature of this piece, how not only the nicotine itself, but the aspect of the surrounding nature, impacts the person within the narrative, whether he realizes it or not.