Ficly

One

“Why is everything red?”
The keys clacked as he started blankly at the screen, eyes as droopy like a cartoon character, throat like rusty iron, and fingers like lead bars. He decided to take a break.
Outside, watching the birds flirt in the wind through the smoke of his cigarette, he wondered what it was really about, the whole damn thing.
He decided to give it one more chance, tossing the end of the cigarette into a nearby watering can as he walked inside.

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