You choked on your cigarette, not that you usually smoke. But tonight was exceptional. Maybe it was your first experimental taste even.
I only saw you from a distant because that is what we are. I question your behaviour in my head only because I know you are capable of so much more.
I panicked. I knew you were calling for help, but I wasn't acknowledged of the causes. I fret, I couldn't assist and I didn't know if I could. Circumstances wouldn't allow.
Maybe then, the cigarette does justice to you of some sort.
But I couldn't adapt. In my head, you're the Übermensch.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Unidentified Übermensch
Written by Nadrah Mustafa at 21:59
Labels: Almost Fiction
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