“Hey, man, what say you share that cigarette with me?” the soldier to my left asked. He had a tremor in his voice that suggested he needed it more than me. I’d only the one and hadn’t done any breakfast.

“Fine, bottom half’s mine,” I said and handed him the unfiltered cancer stick. Didn’t matter if it was a cancer stick or a candy stick. We were all going to be in our coffins by the end of the day. I knew it, the other guy knew it; hell, everyone on the plane knew it.

“Hey, man, thanks so much!”

100 word flash fiction

 

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