Tales of the Wind

Today, I held my windpipe between my thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. It gave, cracking audibly and collapsing inwards a bit. The incident was quite disturbing. Ever since I quit smoking, I've been living in a delicate, whimsical fear that I'm going to be left with throat cancer or some evil variant of it as a result of my smoke-filled years. Having a windpipe that cracks inward does little to ameliorate my fears.