As you draw in your final, prolong puff you close your eyes, internally saying goodbye to an old friend. And then, as a dead sailor is cast off into the deep sea, so is your old friend, flicked from your fingertips into the dead of night.
"HEY!!!!!!" Comes a protesting voice just beyond the blackness of your eyelids. You open your eyes to see your cigarette has hit a set of shoes that belong to a set of feet that consequently belong to a set of legs right in front of you. Your eyes don't have a chance yet to observe who's torso and face the "Hey"-saying legs belong to because you're transfixed.
These are not any shoes. They're...
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