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An Extract Piece of the Story, "JPS"

After the funeral downstairs, I needed to come here.
He used to smoke JPS and I still smoke Lucky Strike.

Every time I inhale, it chokes me.
Every time I exhale, it took something out of me.

I could hear his mother crying out loud and kept asking “why” to no one.
I did not have any idea where his girlfriend is.

There was just a letter, I think I should call it a will, addressed to me.

Your turn.

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

Send me a photo of yours by email. Send me your story or thoughts of the day by using this form.



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