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"You've been quiet lately," I started. Your legs were dangling over the side of the plastic chair.

You shrugged. Then, you grabbed something rectangular from your pocket. Before I realized what was going on, you had a cigarette between your lips.

"Since when do you smoke?" I never saw you as a smoker.

You shrugged again.

"You'll die!"

"That's the point, smart-ass," you laughed, wanting me to think it was a joke. It was a strange laugh, almost mockingly.

I didn't laugh. I knew you were being dead-serious.

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