Short story not finished

[j_master_j]

It Was Six am and the old man sat on the edge of his bed. Sighing he reached for a pack of smokes and lit one up. "fuck what the doctors says. I'm seventy five years old. I can smoke if want. Fuck him! I live my life the way I Want to." He Thought to him self as he took a drag.
He stood up, went to his closet and got dressed. He hadn't bought new clothes in years. He was wearing scuffed up boots, faded camouflage pants and a frayed and tattered white T-shirt that moths had chewed threw. He did not believe in style.

to be continued...