i let the smokes fill my empty lungs. (sunday photo fiction).

149 03 March 27th 2016I placed my suitcase on the empty plastic chair beside me—I paid for it just so nobody would seat. I tried to remember what I might have forgotten in his house—so far, none. I brought my rage with me.

I pulled out a stick and lit its end. I took all the white fogs and let them heal my bruised lungs. Soon, my breaths would become nicotine and I would not trade it for anything.

There was no one inside the bus. We had to stop by the food station because this brat child wanted to have burgers and candy. Of course, the driver listened because, at the end of the day, he would take the mother to his bed.

The ‘No Smoking’ sign pirouetted against the hymns of the air. I blew my cigarette smokes towards the card. The Brat Child ascended in the bus with her sick-looking mother. “What’s that smell?”

I could have punched her.

When he took me to the clinic this morning, I questioned my existence.

I clutched my stomach as the Brat Child snuggled to her mother. My daughter would have told me to stop smoking; she would have slept beneath my embrace.

Check out this week’s prompt:
Sunday Photo Fiction


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

8 thoughts on “i let the smokes fill my empty lungs. (sunday photo fiction).

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  1. Interesting story, He is very angry as he starts out this trip, cigarettes his only release. At the end he arrives at the clinic. I’m not sure for what, whether it’s a place to stop smoking or a place for people with cancer. I think he misses his own daughter and family. Great job Matthew.

    Liked by 1 person

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