The things I do to look cool

It was the final days of the Fall semester, and my friends and I made plans to spend time together before we went our separate ways for Christmas. It was a small gathering that grew even smaller as the night wore on, and it got to the point where there were only a handful of us left. One of us decided it would be a good idea to go outside and smoke cigars, that way we could look extra pretentious when we discussed philosophy and literature. Having only thin, fingerless gloves on me, I did not want to spend an extended period of time outside in the cold. But my friends were relentless, and I gave way to their pleas and joined them outside for a smoke. I don't remember what we talked about out side, but I remember the pain in my hands very well. I kept it to myself, but I could feel the cold wind eating its way through my thin gloves all the way to the bone. I traded an hour of pain and suffering so I could smoke a cigar, and from what I remember it wasn't even that good.