The end

The power went a while back. Am standing in my balcony. There is a building, some distance away.. which throbs.Everything else is dark, the mellow dark of the semi-mooned night. I can hear the palm trees creaking, their dry leaves rustling. I light a cigarette, a Charminar. The smoke is harsh, harsher than the Marlboro. Which was way harsh too.

There is a cool wind blowing, which somewhat dulls the pain. A lone spark flies of in the wind when I flick the ash. It is nearing its end. Time runs into a stone wall, as I press the last smolders into the ledge.
This is the end.