Smoking his third cigarette, he comes upon the prejudice of his past. The salient motives of fate to render his words too adventurous for a conservative society of law-abiding citizens slowly die reckless. His breathing ran oscillated as the smoke overtakes his lungs while his coffee turns cold at the sight his non-compliance.
Thoughts gamble their race, tempting each other to be more than just mere products of imagination but statements of facts validating their existence in reality. I looked at him mimicking my sanctions, following the exact presumption of my tarnished mind as if he rehearsed it a hundred times, as if he predicted my thoughts before I even had the opportunity to think.
His fifth cigarette slips from his hand. As its ashes stain the floor with silver dust he realized the unending premise of happiness depicted foreign in his vocabulary. Questions commit themselves useless to his alibis, no amount of unrealized potential could suffice his thirst for emptiness.
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