He sits, cigarette in hand. The smoke will end and this is known. Knowing this could be the last, he takes long and thoughtful drags. Tingling the tongue before whisping up through the nose, the smoke feels savored. Even loved. She knows she hurts him and drags him closer to the earth from which he came, but she also feels his relief and comfort with each breath. Does she stay and support this crutch of survival, or does she leave him grasping for the slow and painful death he pursues.
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Penana
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