I leaned back in a rickety chair I had for myself, and before telling him all the predictable crap in the world, I was able to smile at him. I sketched a rough drawing on the edge of the table. He had time to hear me curse, to settle into another, more uncomfortable position. I have no answer for that, and I don't want to have anything to do with any future events.

At this part I start losing trace. It feels as if the "I" entered a new scenery. Is "him" and "he" her and she?

Who says this? I believe it belongs to the part above it or?

But I can't even kill myself.

If you ask me he is doing his best to kill himself. It als feels as if a part misses between this one and the one before.

The world of cigarettes lies 20 years back if not 40 😓