Holding my shoulders tightly to ward off the chill, I observed my breath turning into a visible mist before my eyes. I hesitated, considering sneaking into the convenience store across the street for cigarettes, but the thought of facing Ma's wrath – she'd threatened to cut off my head if she smelled smoke on me – deterred me. At twenty years old, I had grown somewhat immune to physical punishment, especially after countless broken wrist incidents at my father's hands and surviving gunshots. While I wouldn't mind a gentle tugging on my ear, which felt like it was glued there by static cling, dealing with Mariska's disgust was an entirely different battle.
