She smoked Lucky Strikes, but she didn’t look like a Lucky Strike smoker. She hung out in the kind of dives that other Lucky Strike smokers did; but you wouldn’t have guessed it, to judge a book by its cover. There was usually something seedy, unkempt, about Lucky Strike smokers; and she didn’t have the requisite amount of chin stubble on her nubile, young face. She had gotten hooked on the cancer sticks in her early days, and had remained a slave to their allure ever since. She was one of the kids in high school who “hung out with the wrong crowd”, and she was still doing it ’til this day.