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