Private Eyes

The dimly lit interior of the office swam in smoke that was tossed and swirled by the slowly oscillating fan clogged my nose, and I coughed slightly. The room was dark like the inside of a paint can still dripping with wet black paint. The smoke wasn’t from my cigarette I quit that habit not three days ago. Granted, it is because of the smokes that there is smoke. I told the guy I would kill for a cigarette. I then told him that I would kill him if he gave me one. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. I wish my .45 didn’t make such a loud noise to go with all that smoke. I bet I gotta use it again. Damn I hate the smoke.