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Another Day

What day was it? He had no idea. The candle was burnt out and the window was open. Several fags were on the floor in front of him. Each one at varying stages of spentness. One, brown and sodden, had been smoked past the filter. His throat burnt. Ashy fingers stroked at his forehead. His own fingers. For a moment he thought they were someone else’s and panicked. Coughing and sputtering. The window had let in a significant amount of water, but the rain clouds had passed. Outside was sunny. Cold sunny. Winters’s sun. The curtains hung still. No wind today. He stood up and sat down again. Too much motion in too short a time. A bottle clinked as he moved. Rolled from behind him. Beer. The stale beer smell rolled with it. Ashamed to waste it, he sucked on the dry teat and coughed some more. Another day ahead of him. Another day.

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