...not again you sigh as the face of a random woman closes the cigarette packet overhead. Your wife was usually pretty good at getting you before random strangers, but looks like today was going to be one of THOSE days. You can feel your long cylindrical body being jostled about in the packet. “I hope she finds me before I get smoked” you think as Tara strides down the city pavement towards her job.
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Meanwhile your wife Shannon had stepped up to the counter and purchased a packet of cigarettes. The moment she lifted the pack from the counter she knew she was too late. “Damn” she said under her breath. “Excuse me mam, what did you say?” asked the cashier. “Oh uhh, Did someone recently buy a pack of these?” she asks to a confused looking attendant. “Yes? … I believe that woman who just left bought some why?”. Your wife sighed with relief as she Grabbed the carton, “No reason”. Stepping out of the store she smelt the fresh cigarette smoke in the air. Like a blood hound she sniffed the air, trying to follow the trail of the scent. As she slowly walked down the road sniffing she looked down, “AH HA, she exclaimed as she saw some ash littered against a building. With a smile on her face she began walking down the street after her husbands kidnapper, “Smokenapper?” she thought, chuckling to herself.
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Tara was standing outside in the streets still, she regretted having to walk this far, her feet were killing her. “Man Chucks were not the right choice today” she thought. With a sigh she grabbed her cigarettes and pulled a fresh one out. Her dry lips holding the smoke as she tried to light the tip. Her lighter clicked three-four times but wouldn't spark a flame. “Ugh really, now? Come on you piece of -” she kept flicking the lighter trying to get it to light up. * click, click, click *. “UGH” she shouted before * click FWOOSH * the flame came alive, igniting the tip. With a long drag, Tara drew in hard on the cigarette. She tapped her foot as she smoked, clearly feeling stressed about something. With a final draw she ashed the last remains onto the ground and dropped the cigarette. Her tapping white converse simply stomping and twisting once before she stepped off into a door nearby.
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After what felt like hours you finally felt your captor stop walking. The package around you flexed as she pried it form her tight jeans. The sky opened, and you watch as nails with black chipped nail polish hovered above until they grabbed …
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