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Drop that smoke, head up for an identity check

The cigarette falls, leaving that spiral trail that you thought was missing. You stare down after it thinking about how you always take the time to see beauty. Worth it most times. You lose sight of it around a bend in the tunnel and fail to see the cherry on it burst off in a shower of tiny sparks as it hits the bottom rung and bounces over to the middle shelf of a can-rack.

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