Shadows stared back at him as he lay in his bed staring at the ceiling; watching the smoke from his lit cigarette dance toward the ceiling, dance in and out of shadows from the downtown skyline. He inhaled, and painted more smoke dances on his airy canvas. He layed alone and stayed in his trance.
Not a single sound disturbed him in his darken room. Nothing caught his attention. Instead he lay in his underwear on his bed, smoking. Not a care in the world as he watched the world pass by.
He sat up, butted out his cigarette and walked toward the bathroom. He flicked the lightswitch, opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out some sleeping pills.
He layed back down in his bed and looked at the ceiling staring back at him. "Sleep" the ceiling told him. " .. sleep."
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