She draws in smoke from the mouth of the pipe, inhaling all that her lungs would allow her. The taps of her nails bounce off the walls that surround her. She releases the smoke, permitting the fog to kiss her open eyes until they sting.
Footsteps march like millions of men running across an open battlefield. She draws in smoke but this time she holds it in, assaulting her lungs with no air. Her head becoming light. Her eyes faintly batting. The thuds pacing closer.
It all stops.
At last she dreams; dreaming of seas and the open sky. Of birds that sing and the sun that touches her skin like love touches a man’s heart.