Ink InhalationPen between his pointer and middle fingers, he raised it to his lips, pretending he was inhaling the deep rich ink. Exhaling, he imagined the smooth, fresh curves of ink in the air, spiraling silent visionaries. In his lungs he felt the smoke, the delicious, nourishing ache, and my God, fire! Flickering flames whipped in his own body, devouring his organs! Burning. Startled, he flung the pen aside. It clattered among the papers and notebooks on the wooden floor, echoing. The fire, all his fault. He recalled the smoke, thicker than creamy cake icing, a sharp taste he had fancied for so long- until that night. Oh, the carelessness, the nee
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