“So I don’t mind dyin’, ya know.” She dabbed her cigarette loosely on the edge of the ashtray with one finger. She held it like a gentle prize. Like a child, dangling a familiar teddy bear by its foot. She smiled, regarding me as if I were a ghost. She had a look of empathetic pondering. “I wouldn’t mind at all, dyin’.” I could not muster anything more than thought. I kept the short silence with a stare into her eyes. She broke the gaze, looking down at the smoke emanating from her cigarette. “I would just much rather die tomorrow than today,” she said. |
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