The man and his cigar. I was wondering why he smoked his future away by a thankless smoke of cigar. He didn't want to make use of the grace of humanity because he was fed up of being human. I graced him with my presence, only to find him cuddling his doll : a pillow of his tears. There he lied next to it, too trembling to look into my eyes, sobbing enough to soak his bed wet and his death was closer than he wished. I reached my hand to him, who after refusing, posed eyes of horror that begged for another cigar. A man, broken and overburdened with void of not possessing the essence of life. Hence, a cigar had become the face of his heart beat, unknowingly of the unholy end of his tale. With an attitude of panic, l humbly knelt before him, kindly requested his permission to rescue him out of his pit, even though I didn't know how to rescue him. His bleeding soul fenced me against him, he clung his fingers against the bed sheet and spitted a leave me alone saliva on m...
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