It would be bad to damage them further.He took another swig. The tobacco craving overwhelmed any worries he had and he pushed through the trees and bu...shes. The last tree had a branch so solid it hurt even him to push through. But when he got there, he mumbled in joy. There were two – two! – half-finished cigarettes. The better one of the cigarettes had a little lipstick on it. He sat down and lit that cigarette, savouring the nicotine. As he relaxed he thought of the young mouth that had been. ‘Are you sure?’ The Little Candle Girl gave him a last pleading glance that could melt even the hardest of hearts. ‘I’m t-tt-err-ib-bly sorry.’ Scott could barely get the words out. ‘I have to go now.’ ‘Oh….Okay.’ The little girl shivered in disappointment. As Scott rounded the corner he thought he saw a tear fall down her dingy cheek. Scott hurried to his car, anxious to erase the memory of The Little Candle Girl. But as he headed once more toward the Mill Street Bridge, he couldn’t get her. She told him breakfast was ready and it would only get cold if he dilly-dallied. At least it was Friday. He got ready quickly and headed to the kitchen to eat. As he ate he looked his mom over, he'd always had a thing for a thing for his mom but could never admit to anyone, much less to himself. Still he found ways to observe her without her noticing. At 42 she was still a good-looking woman, her firm breasts, he learned by rummaging the laundry were a 42 D and she was slim, had a waistline a. You know, once I had spent a whole evening with some bird who was a bloody born again Christian, I couldn't get away from her. I was climbing the bleeding walls by the time I got home that night. And I had to hide out for the next couple of weeks until she gave up on the idea of saving me and found some other mug to pester.Anyway, Reg (I'm sure that was his name) and I met these two girls in a local pub. I've got to admit Jo was definitely not what I had been expecting. Reg's girl was a real.