trader
betrayed by her own thoughts and mind, she slowly walks the deserted street. no light. no sound. even the moon has refused to show herself, covering her face with the blanket of clouds, weeping for the sad soul of the pathetic creature who's counting her steps towards the edge of the world.
the cigarette between her frozen fingers burns and slowly turns to ashes that disappear into the snow-covered ground. one touch to her lips, and with every breath she gives away her life a thousand times, thinking that this glowing cigar, is my only light in this iceland.
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