There’s nothing quite like that first deep drag after a good workout—the way it melts into me, soft and warm, like the last stretch of sunlight on my skin. I lean back against the gym’s brick wall, one foot propped up behind me, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from the session. My long hair, still slightly damp, clings to my shoulders as I exhale slowly, watching the swirl of smoke dissolve into the air. The cool breeze brushes against my bare arms, still flushed from exertion, and I take another slow pull, savoring the familiar, mellow buzz. It’s not sharp, not overwhelming—just a gentle hum, like the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. The nicotine wraps around my senses, easy and comforting, the perfect little reward after pushing myself on the mat. I tilt my head back, eyes half-lidded, and let out a contented sigh. This is my moment—just me, the fading adrenaline, and the smooth, steady pleasure of my post-gym ritual. No rush, no edge—just pure, unhurried enjoyment.