The show nobody else can see

There's a show running in your head right now, and you're the whole audience. The urge writes the script, plays every part, raises the objection, answers it, and takes a bow. All in your voice. All in about forty seconds. Of course it sounds convincing. It's the only one on stage.

That show needs an empty house. The cigarette only sounds wise when nobody else can hear it. So break the privacy now, while the argument's still running and nothing's been decided. Let one other person in on it, and the whole act starts to look thin. It only ever played well to an audience of one.

Pick up your phone and send one person this. Having a rough one. Not doing anything about it. Just telling you. No story. Nothing for them to fix. Nothing to explain tomorrow. It doesn't even mention a cigarette. It only has to move the conversation out of your head.

Then turn the phone face down. The reply can take all day, because the text did its job the second it left your hand. Somebody else knows now. God knew first, and He's been in the room the whole time. Give it a few minutes. House lights up. Show's over.