Flash Fiction: Poison Air

I can’t handle the smell.

“Would you please put that thing out?” I asked.

“Wish I could,” he responded, taking another puff of his cigarette. The noxious white fumes floated around in the room and had nowhere to go.  I coughed, and my lungs burned.

“You can,” I said. I held out an overused ashtray. “You just stop.”

“That’s not how addiction works,” he said, and softly shook his head. “I figured with how much coffee you suck down you’d get that.” Continue reading

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