The sun peeking through your shades stirs you from a restful sleep. As you sit up in your bed you can hear the coffee pot perking, and you thank a god you don’t believe in for coffee timers. You shuffle to the kitchen nook in your studio apartment hoping a cigarette and a hot cup of Joe would combat the pounding of your head.

As you prepare your cup you smell something you can’t place, and look at your constantly filled sink silently laughing to yourself. With the warm cup in hand you look for a lighter amidst the piles of clothes, and pizza boxes.

The thought that you should clean is brushed away with a decisive grunt of agitation. Sitting on your couch you think about how you should quit smoking. Your girlfriend is always telling you it is going to kill you one day.

“Yes!” you exclaim as you realize it was in your pocket the whole time. As you flick the lighter in front of the cigarette hanging out of your mouth you feel an instant of extreme pain before the gas leak blows your apartment into a crater.