He was lit at the end.
The fire was slowly spreading through his veins.
There was smoke.
He was perishing.
His soul was breaking down.
Consumed almost to the end.
The stub of his body was then thrown down to the floor and stamped on.
The person who put had put him through this peril had crushed him and moved on.
What he used to do everyday to his cigarette was done today to him by the love of his life
--- Laxmi Krishnan
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