Heart thumps against Ribs in an all too familiar arrhythmical beat, and music earnestly streamed through Ears cannot calm it down. It works along with Brain, and fuels cold fire that makes Soul fold into itself further. There is a command to Tear-Ducts, but they are paralyzed.

Legs take action, taking Body swiftly up the stairs; Eyes carefully planning the best route through the doors, around the table – showing Arms where to reach under the flap of the white box of cardboard.

Fingers deftly open up the well-used pack, Nose hungrily picks up the comforting waft of charred paper and tobacco. One end of this craving is guided (with the ease of repetition) to the corner of parched Lips, as Body moves to its familiar place.

The opposing end is fired up and the charring continues with renewed vigor. Lungs expand excitedly to allow the hot, sweet poison to flow into and through it to the network of blood vessels to the rest of Body.

We’re all calm now.

6 thoughts on “35.

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