Alone in the
chilly winter night. The lights were bothering him and he shut them off. He turned his attention to the blank screen in
front of him. The cursor blinked away, counting down the seconds. Man’s feeble
attempt at measuring such an intrinsic property of the Universe. A sudden flare
of bright yellow light as he struck a match and lit his third cigarette of the
hour. Slow puffs. He watched the smokes curl up and dance, overjoyed at their
new freedom. Breaking off from their physical form, to merge and become part of
the greater whole. It was the fire that set them free. Did they feel pain? And was the pain worth it? Was rebirth without its torment? And did
they have a choice? The flame shines in its brief glory. Smoke rises up, never
down. The ash is what gets flicked away and emptied into the dustbin.
