When I was young, I would sneak out onto my roof with my father's cigarettes and chain smoke. They knew I did it. They found the butts on the ground in the yard. But no one said anything.

I sat up there, puff puffing away, texting a girl I thought I could never out grow.

"Run away with me," she said. I wanted to. I almost did. But I was almost done with my senior year of high school. Things were okay for me for the first time in years.

She never forgave me for saying no. The last time I kissed her, I tasted meth on her tongue.