Grown-Up
I'm outside, leaning against the wall behind the firehouse. Egon says it's better if I don't smoke inside. I hold the Marlboro between my lips. I burned something important last time I smoked inside. That was childish.
The guys look at me like I'm some big kid. Maybe I kind of am. I still get excited when I hear the ice-cream truck. I know it's Pavlovian. I can get ice cream whenever I want from the store. But that's not the point, is it?
I light my cigarette.
I'm the only reason we have arcade games upstairs in the firehouse. Hell, I'm the only reason we have the firehouse. Well, I'm the reason we bought it. I couldn't help myself. When you're a grown-up, you can't slide down the poles at the playground anymore.
I take a long drag and hold it for a couple seconds before I blow the smoke out through my nose. It makes me feel like a dragon, and that's fun.
No, I shouldn't do that. That's childish. I take another drag and exhale properly this time. Like a grown-up. Like a grown-up who doesn't think of a marshmallow man for comfort when a Sumerian god threatens the world. Like a grown-up who doesn't accidentally summon a giant marshmallow man to attack New York. I take another drag.
Winston doesn't seem to notice when I act like a kid. Or maybe he just doesn't show it. Winston's a good guy. Egon and Peter don't say anything, but they don't hide that they notice. I guess I'm okay with that. I like the honesty.
I keep smoking. I'm not a kid. Maybe I act like a kid sometimes, but I'm a grown-up. An adult. Sometimes I have to step out and smoke. Just to remind them, and to remind myself, that I'm an adult. A grown-up.