And if anyone is wondering why I hate smoking, I'll tell you why.
Our Gas Detection meters at work are programmed to detect all sorts of vapors, one of which being CO, or carbon monoxide. It measures these in PPM, or Parts Per Million. OSHA, through extensive research, has designated all dangerous gases such as CO to have a PEL, or Permissible Exposure Limit. This is how long you can be exposed to it for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, or a 40 hour work week. If you exceed the PEL, the time frame comes down for how long you can be exposed.
The PEL of CO is 25 PPM. If you light a cigarette, and put the end you pull the smoke through to the pump on the meter and suck in a sample, the meter will immediately and unquestionably max out its CO sensor at 999 and fault.
Smoking. Isn't. Good.
A faith long forgotten, replaced by more earthly rituals.
He will not let it fall into the puddle. Neither the weather, the freezing cold nor the stormclouds underneath his cave, his only visitors in these dark times, can make him forget about the oath he has sworn to himself.
An oath to hold dear what no one remembers. To embrace what no one values anymore. To die with his faith like he once blossomed with it.
Freyera, lonesome watcher of the Pony-threads.
His mountain is gone since ancient times. He now lives in our very middle. He is where we are, talks to us, laughs with us, lives with us. But his spirit is still the old hermit on the mountain, build by his faith over many eons.
Unshaken by life, the people he has met or even time itself.
A relict of forgotten ages.
Damn. And no, it isn't, that's why I hate it.