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“How much does a cigarette like the one you let me try cost?” He asked Damien in a friendly manner.
“Not very much, I’d say, if you consider that you can recover the cost with the first eight packets of cigarettes that you won’t buy anymore, once you switch to the vape!”
“Well, yes… I guess so, - he reasoned with a mental calculation – I buy a pack a day! So, do you mean to say that I could buy it with forty euros?” With a quick peek in his wallet, he counted sixty euros and a few coins.
“I mean to say that that amount will do and I’ll also throw in a gift for you, - Damien pulled a black strap out of a drawer - see? You can attach this to the cigarette so you can put it around your neck, and have it within your reach every time you want to take a puff! “
Massimo watched Damien put the strap on the cigarette and while he followed the operation, his eyes fell on Damien’s long, strong fingers, well-manicured nails, unusually long for a man.
Since he also had long nails, particularly the thumb and pinkie of his right hand, in order to pinch the guitar chords, he wondered if Damien kept them long for the same reason, but he refrained from asking him.
“Well Massimo, now we just have to decide which tobacco flavour and which degree of nicotine you want to load your cigarette with!” Massimo glanced at the liquids in the display case, there was a great number and variety of brands, all arranged in groups, by brand, by taste and degree of nicotine, but not knowing what to choose, he turned to Damien:
“What do you recommend?”
“To begin with, - said Damien heading towards the liquids showcase – I need to know what type of cigarette you are used to smoking, whether light or strong, aromatic or not.”
“I smoke these, - and he pulled out the packet – about 15 a day!”
“Alright, Massimo, - he said while opening the showcase and pulling out a little bottle – I think this tobacco flavour is the one for you, it contains about twelve milligrams of nicotine per millilitre, therefore, the amount loaded in the tank of the e-cig, corresponds to the amount of nicotine absorbed by about six of your analogue cigarettes”.
Damien explained to Massimo how to carry out the calculation of the absorbed nicotine compared to that of traditional cigarettes, he told him that he multiplied the degree of nicotine to the millilitres of the e-cig charger, divided the result by four and also divided it by the degree of nicotine of a cigarette smoked by Massimo. This confirmed the fact that the nicotine absorbed by vaporization is one-fourth of the one actually contained in the charger, and this was also confirmed by several tests performed in laboratories. While explaining this calculation, Damien filled the charger, calling it "atomizer", showed Massimo all the steps he should follow and advised him to be careful not to pour the contents of the flask onto his hands, and in such a case he should immediately wash them, because nicotine is easily absorbed by the skin.
Then, once he ended the sale, he came out from behind the counter to say goodbye to him.
“Thank you Massimo, for passing by, you won’t regret it, today you made an important purchase for your health and you gained another friend. – He looked into his eyes kindly - Come see me whenever you want, I'll let you try new flavours, I’ll lead you along the path away from smoking, we can talk, you can tell me about your experience and keep me updated!”
Massimo returned Damien’s smile and at the same time, he felt the urge to confess his tendency to be inconsistent.
“You know, - he said lowering his head – I’m not sure I’ll be able to quit smoking; every time I’ve tried I failed after just a few days!”
“Don’t limit yourself - Damien answered promptly – don’t think of the past. You're trying something new now, make pretend that this is the first time you decided to quit and especially, remember that you are not abandoning nicotine, the gestures, the little clouds you puff, the taste of tobacco! - Then he put a hand on his shoulder, and Massimo felt a reassuring warmth that made him turn towards the mirror attached to the wall - Here, sit here, in the middle of this rosette on the floor and look at yourself in the mirror.”
Massimo had already noticed the strange pattern in the middle of the store, a curious and geometrically perfect decoration, a mosaic made of colourful tiles in concentric circles.
He sat at the centre of the rosette and curiously looked at his reflection in the mirror.
“Look at yourself in the mirror – Damien repeated - and repeat with all your determination: “I will stop smoking, I will stop smoking, I will stop smoking”.
Massimo promised, while looking at his reflection and as he vowed he felt to be strangely solemn and sincere.
“Now, - Damien added - you have carved this promise in your soul.”
Part four (the reward)
Massimo left the store saying goodbye to Damien, without looking away from his eyes which held him locked like a powerful magnet from which he could not escape.
Finally he lowered his head and walked quickly away, with his mind still reflected on the store mirror, in which he had sworn to give up smoking.
It was six o'clock in the afternoon, the days of mid-March had lengthened and mild temperatures allowed staying out until late at night, to walk, visit the city and feel that spring was already in the air, go window shopping... Oh... No, no, he had shopped enough for one day, he thought, although he didn’t regret what he had just done.
He absently put his hand in his jean pocket to pull out his lighter, and then from the pocket of his jacket he pulled out the pack of cigarettes. What was he doing? He stopped himself when he had almost brought the cigarette to his mouth in the act of lighting it, saw his reflection in the window of a bar, and remembered Damien, with his glowing green eyes: “…Now, you have carved this promise in your soul… “.
He was overwhelmed by the urge to smoke; he had never wanted a cigarette so much in his life. A man who was smoking casually passed by him and he turned his head in the direction of the smoke, craning his neck and opening his nostrils to catch the grey exhalation, his hand was bringing the lighter to his mouth and his eyes never left his reflection in the window. His mind was fighting a gruelling round; a strange force pulled the flame away from the tip of the rolled tobacco that was panting as much as he was; another force, intentional, brought it close again in the need to satisfy his desire. But the roll remained unlit, because he finally decided to trigger the new electronic cigarette button, he then pulled it out and took a puff.
He took such a long one and he inhaled so much of it that he was afraid he would fuse the battery. He found satisfaction, yes, and decided to put the package back in his jacket pocket.
“For now I can resist”, he thought. He saluted his image in the window of the bar, someone inside probably thought that the greeting was addressed to him, but Massimo turned away and continued walking, pleased with himself for not giving in to the tobacco industry.
Shaking his head he resumed walking, he decided that a walk would have relaxed him; he would continue to vape his electronic cigarette on his way home. Once he got home he would put his cigarettes on top of a closet, perhaps he would toss them up there, no matter where they ended.
The taste of tobacco which he was savouring was not bad indeed, it had a pleasant aromatic aftertaste; it didn’t give him bad breath, it satisfied his desire for nicotine and the steam coming out of his mouth was even whiter and more dense than that of a cigarette.
A cat crossed his path, passing almost over his feet, and hid in a garbage can. That morning the market had taken place on that street. Several cats were busy rummaging through papers and other debris, even food, spread across the ground. In the distance he saw that the vans of the garbage collectors were already arriving, to clean up the street and the plaza.
The black cat reappeared putting his nose out from his hiding place, staring at Massimo with a look of defiance, his eyes were green like Damien’s, and he made a gesture with his paw that seemed an invitation, “Come here if you dare!” it seemed to say.
But it wasn’t a challenge. The cat had something under his paw, something made of paper and on which was imprinted an image, a five-pointed star, like Damien’s earring, but it didn’t shine.
Massimo approached the cat, leaned over and was surprised to see that... Beside the star with five grey tips, was impressed the number 50. He had found fifty euros! Wow, the same amount he had spent in Damien’s store! He picked it up promptly, heedless of the cat who ran away quickly, without asking for a reward.
Part five (stop the clock!)
Sonia had just left the Doctor’s Office; the results of her tests were not good at all. Her hands were trembling from the sudden feeling of weakness; she almost fainted before those papers on which her destiny was written. Inexorably.
“First of all you need to stop smoking immediately, - the Doctor admonished her severely – your habit can’t win over your will, we’ll try every possible treatment to slow down the progression of the tumour”.
These words echoed over and over in Sonia’s head; her thirty-four years of age had become as heavy as boulders, perhaps they contained all her life and maybe in another life, she would have lived longer. She felt old and out of place, all around her she could only see the uselessness of it all.
What good had her commitment to her University studies done her, or the job she had recently undertaken as an architect, designing homes that would live longer than she would, even from their foundation stage, or the job that promised her a successful future?
Then there was love. She put her love life on hold in order to study and now that she was finally exploring this new world together with her new boyfriend, her time had expired. Everything expired. Time had expired, beauty had expired, pleasure had expired, and she was running out of life.
From behind the counter of the store, Damien saw Sonia, still standing in front of the window of the Doctor’s Office, which was just across the street from his store. He looked up from his laptop and took a better look at the girl.
She also looked up from those condemning papers, she looked at her Breil watch which indicated a stupid and useless nine o’clock in the morning and while looking around her, she met Damien’s gaze. Although the shop windows were a little obscured, the interior light brightened and allowed her to see inside even from a distance. Sonia had a perfect vision of Damien who got up from behind the counter and started walking towards the door. A sign, the kind with colourful LED letters, lit up in the stained glass window of the store, the LEDs lit up and began chasing each other, reading: “Open”.
A flash of lightning followed by a long loud thunder, tinted the lead grey cloudy sky with blue-violet for a moment. To Sonia it seemed that it had always been that colour. Now she couldn’t even imagine a different colour than the “Fifty shades of grey”; yet her life, unlike the film, had not been erotic at all.
The weather promised rain soon, the air was particularly electric. The wonderful spring weather of the day before seemed a distant memory. On television she had heard that there would have been yet another return of winter weather. Perhaps one last sprinkle of snow, even at low altitudes.
Sonia crossed the street as soon as the predicted rain started to harshly pour all over her. Covering her head as best as she could with her cellophane covered medical records, she ran straight towards Damien’s shop door, quickly opened it, walked in and felt a welcoming embrace that she gratefully accepted.
“Thank you, excuse me!” she said to the man that let her in from the rain.
“Don’t worry, - he answered, kindly - you’re welcome to stay here until the rain settles down, it’s no problem”.
“Thanks again, but I don’t think it will stop soon!”
Damien ushered the girl to one of the two armchairs in the store, which he used for customers in line or for those who stopped by for a chat, which happened often. He sat on the second chair, never taking his eyes from Sonia.
She was a beautiful girl, blonde with a modern short haircut, tall and thin, with the right curves in the right places, she could be a model, with her graceful movements and tone of voice. She was wearing a suit, black jacket and pants with a white silk blouse, a little unbuttoned, she wore high heeled pumps which enhanced her ankles and well-shaped feet.
Her hands were beautiful, Damien watched as she rested them on the arms of the chair; he would have liked to take them into his, to feel their softness. Surely she had a rare beauty about her.
“Is this an electronic cigarette store?” Sonia asked to break the ice.
“Yes, - said Damien bringing his eyes back to hers - one of the many that have been opened over the last three years here in Florence”.
Meanwhile, it was really pouring rain outside.
“I have seen some of them - said Sonia - but I never stopped to ask for information on these articles, maybe I should have…”
She put her hand on the clinical records.
“I don’t want to take advantage of this occasion to sell you something - Damien interrupted her, standing up – instead, may I offer you some coffee? I was just making one for myself”.
“That’s very kind of you, - Sonia nodded – but, do go ahead, maybe I’m interested in the topic, you can tell me about it in the meantime.”
Sonia’s frankness was disarming. Damien was fascinated by her and while he prepared the coffee with the electric coffee maker he kept in his shop and then, while they drank the two cups of coffee, he improvised an explanation of the e-cig that was brief, clear and comprehensive.
It was obvious that Damien wasn’t very interested in Sonia as a new possible customer; rather he wanted to know more about her and her story, if she wanted to tell it to him.
But she received a phone call that somehow prevented her from staying a bit longer in the store.
She had to leave in a hurry, therefore she said goodbye to Damien handing him back the empty cup of the excellent coffee he offered her, and as if she wanted to repay him for his gracious hospitality, she pointed to a small statue in the showcase packed with various trinkets.
“This is nice, is it for sale?” She asked indicating a little statue of a man sitting on an old suitcase with a hat in his hand. As she looked at it better, she realized that she really liked it.
“For you it’s on sale” said Damien as he picked up the statue and handed it to Sonia, enjoying the chance to touch her hand.
When she came into contact with Damien’s hand, Sonia felt a shiver down her spine, a pleasant feeling, while she noticed that the man’s pupils widened and their colour went from emerald green into an indigo blue.
“Really, - said Sonia still under the effect of that sensation – how much is it? I like it a lot and I’d like to buy it for my office”.
“I told you it's on sale, so let's say eight euros and the promise that you'll come back to see me and to try an electronic cigarette, okay?”
Sonia opened her purse and took out the money, promised she would be back soon, maybe even on the next Saturday; she said goodbye and went quickly out of the store carrying the bag in which Damien had put the statue.
It had stopped raining, perhaps not for long. She looked at her watch, it was nine o’clock. Still nine? Maybe her battery was dead? She decided to check it out later, now she had to run back to work, or rather, to her Office.
Part six (a second chance)
She ran towards the bus stop, the bus no. 29 was scheduled for 9:15 and, if her watch hadn’t stopped, calculating her twenty minute stopover at the store, she had probably lost it. The next one would pass at 9:40. So there was no need to rush. Walking, she removed her watch from her wrist and checked the dial, which appeared to be running again and it signed 9:10. Sonia thought that some juice would do her good, to regain a little strength following the bad news she had received and her strange encounter. She entered the bar close to Damien’s store, the same one where Massimo had stopped due to his urge to smoke a cigarette.
It wasn’t a relaxing drink. As soon as they served it to her, outside she saw a parade of ambulances and police cars with their sirens on. People rushed out to see what had happened, even Sonia, who looked out and saw the cars trying to convey to a single lane, leaving room for the emergency vehicles, which were desperately trying to find a passage way in the traffic. From a distance, less than a kilometre away from her viewpoint, she could clearly see a black smoke cloud rising to the sky. For about fifteen minutes, she and many others, some patrons of the bar and others just passers-by, kept watching in order to understand what had happened. It had to be something serious.
Some rumours were passed from one person to the other, bringing back news that was mostly unreliable. Some said it was a bomb, some claimed that a tank truck had exploded, some already shouted about a terrorist attack, others said that it was a terrible car accident.
Sonia realized that the situation was getting worse. She would not have made it to the Office on time for her morning meeting, as she had promised her colleague who had called her earlier, so she thought it best to warn him of her delay or maybe even her impossibility to attend, which seemed to be the case. She went back into the bar and dialled her Office’s number.
Stefano, her colleague, anxiously answered following the first ring: “Sonia, finally! Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course Stefano, why do you ask?”
“So you weren’t on that bus?”
“My God, no, - said Sonia, alarmed – what happened?”
“A bad accident, Sonia, they’re talking about it on the local radio station, the bus that you usually take, number twenty-nine, collided into a truck and caught fire. A disaster, they say that one person is dead and several wounded!”
Sonia recoiled. She couldn’t believe that such a thing had happened and that it had happened to her bus that morning, and at that hour. Yes... That hour... The hour her watch had stopped on, allowing her to avoid such a tragedy.
“I was late Stefano – said Sonia reassuring her colleague – so thankfully I didn’t take that bus. Now I see that there is a lot of traffic and I won’t be able to make it on time for the morning meeting. You can go ahead without me; we’ll catch up later, okay?”
“Okay Sonia, don’t worry!” And as Stefano hung up, she could hear the relief in his voice.
It was almost ten o’clock. Sonia considered that it would be better to go back home by foot, it wasn’t that far away.
The morning was gone now. Once home, she would try to put the pieces of the puzzle together, the absurd picture of a nightmarish morning, which ended luckily for her, compared to the tragedy if she had taken that unlucky bus no. 29.
Part seven (Damien’s resistance)
On Saturday mornings, especially a sunny one such as “that Saturday” of the end of April, Damien’s store was rarely visited, while in the afternoon there was always a lot of work, whatever the weather. Therefore Damien took advantage of that time to restore his manual regeneration atomizer, a job which gave him great satisfaction.
The work consisted in building a coil, namely a “spring” made by winding a resistance wire around a small screwdriver, forming a series of turns, very tight and not crossed, heated by a flame of a caramelizer and then pressed down again with pliers.
Finally this coil was mounted on two conductive towers, placed on a base, called “the heart” of the atomizer, and through this spring, he passed a cotton strip which he then put around it, after closing the whole device with the steel cylinder that was the pre-funnel of the atomizer.
Once he soaked the cotton with the liquid to be vaporized and once he assured himself that the resistance he built had the right value of desired ohms, once he set the right dispenser voltage, he pushed the button of his electric battery. Thus, the incandescent resistance caused the liquid with which the cotton was soaked to nebulize into the atomizer’s combustion chamber, coming out full of aroma and fluffiness, when a person inspired from the little tube called drip-tip. Every time he built a coil, he had the foresight to try its incandescence before he dipped the cotton into it, in order to be certain that the resistance became incandescent from the centre outward in a uniform manner and within the required time.
That Saturday morning, something extraordinary happened to Damien’s resistance, something which explains the need for the above explanation.
The coil had just been placed on the conductive towers, Damien had screwed the little screws that held the two ends of the resistance wire to the positive pole and to the negative pole, and was about to mount the stand on its battery to test its value, when Sonia stepped into the shop.
“Good morning!” said Damien. He sounded as though he was expecting her.
“Good morning Damien – said Sonia with a radiant smile – I came to thank you for the other morning, you have no idea how lucky I was to stop in here!”
Damien looked at her with the tenderness of a father who is about to receive a gift from his child, he leaned on the counter, resting on his arms and turning his palms to Sonia as if waiting for a gift.
“What happened?” He asked while holding out his hand to shake Sonia’s, and she promptly shook his back.
“Did you hear about that bus, number twenty-nine, which caught fire at the end of Via Baracca?”
Damien nodded and shook his head as if to say: “Okay, go ahead!”
“I could’ve been on that bus, and maybe I wouldn’t be here to tell you about it!” She said with her eyes wide open.
