It borrowed your voice

I need one. I've earned it. I'll smoke today and start again Monday. First person. Present tense. Your exact words. That's why it gets through. You don't fact check your own thoughts. You act on them. And this one showed up wearing your voice.

Some scam calls show up on your screen with your own number, so you answer. The cigarette has been spoofing your caller ID. Every urge rang in on your own line, sounding like a conclusion you'd reached. It was never you calling.

Change the pronoun. Say the sentence back in the third person, under your breath or just in your head. It wants one. Not I want one. It. The words barely change, and everything else does. Now there's a speaker and a listener. A voice you can hear is a voice you can answer.

Then tell God the truth. I know Your voice. This isn't it. In the third person, the craving sounds thin, the way most bad advice does. Let it ring. Nobody makes you pick up. Now answer in your real voice. This call isn't mine. I'm hanging up.