Quitting Is Hard Comments

It was dusk. The sun bled through it's shroud of clouds, which rained down thin sheets of misty vapor. As night fell, and light seemed to elude my grasp, I clutched my blonde cigarette and kindled it's flame.

Evening had come around. The crimson sun peeked through its veil of thin clouds. Rain descended like an elegant fog. As the easy darkness enveloped the sun taking its heat, she wrapped herself in the warmth of the dark.
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