Chapped lips clasp lightly round the filter. Smooth and rounded paper perfectly fits in the natural dip of them. A trembling thumb rolls over the wheel, sparks fly but nothing follows. The wheel rolls again, making new sparks - now an amber glow follows. Bouncing around the edge of the paper, burning it brown until the embers come.
Inhale.
The paper burns down slightly as the air is pulled unwillingly through the gaps between the coils and strands of tobacco.
Take back.
Tainted air flows down to the organs that keep you going. It infiltrates the lungs and seeps in to the bloodstream. It's a dark thought but with that it brings the relaxation.
Exhale.
The smoke pushes through pursed lips, swirling in to the surrounding air. Smoke is beautiful, the way it wraps and flies like those Chinese clouds in paintings. A deathly beautiful. You know it will kill you but the beauty of it is too hard to resist.
YOU ARE READING
A Series of Shorts
Short StoryThis here, is a collection of short 'mind dumps' that I have decided to share. So prepare for an inconsistent bunch of words, jumbled up to create a collection of potentially okay shorts. 2017 - on going...
