• Thick, fog-like smoke floats from my lips and curls itself around my head. A few passes later and I begin to smile, euphoric I take my turn again and pass it along. Always keep the chain moving, always.
    When the first is finally cashed we light up the next and repeat the process. Cashed once more and finally out we return to the cigarettes. Death sticks, tar rods, call them what you want but they're beautiful all the same.
    Laughter rolls from one mouth over nothing in particular, and soon enough it infests and dominates the remainder of our populous. After five minutes no one remembers what we're laughing about, which breaks the dam of another reservoir of ecstasy and laughter.