An Extract Piece of the Story, "JPS"

He is gone.
He is dead.
He is passed away.

There are so many expressions to describe what happened to my friend, but I think, he just vanished from “here” to “there”.

I lit a ciggaret with a cheap lighter, sitting on the floor and looking outside of the window. 
I was at his room. There was a letter in front of me.
The smoke could not get out through the window so it stayed in the space above.

Your turn.

I gave you my pieces. Can  you give me  yours?

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