LivingInTheVoid

     The lights go dim as the rain picks up outside. It makes me wonder about why I'm still alive.  The smoke from my cigarette curls menacingly toward my right eye, it never gets at the left one.  Some kind of metaphysical truce, or satanic pact that it must have made while I wasn't looking.  The coffee tastes like hot death, and the water makes my teeth hurt.     The slam of the door alerts me back to the lights, and then to the music, which is atrocious.  It makes me wish that something terrible would happen to make it stop.  The teapot on the far shelf of the back wall still looks like a sizeable hookah, so I must not have been as bad o