Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man
by feldman
"Goodbye then, John." He tastes tobacco smoke when he pulls in a deep breath. They're only reconstructions; the hard wood seat of the chair, the starchy white shirt clinging to his back on a sheen of human sweat, the oil and dust scraping underneath his stiff dress shoe.
The even breathing of the man behind him.
"I will miss you."
And yet everything is hyper-real and precious. He is naked underneath the cotton and wool, the barrier of the coolant suit long gone and irretrievable.
When John rips these things away, he will have nothing left but vulnerability.
"Without hesitation."