>>6000907>>6001051After what must have been ten or so hours of walking without any change in scenery, you figure it would be good for you to take a quick break from the monotony of walking forward, step after step. You walk over to the van, standing directly in front of the open window that was leaking smoke. It did not smell like any regular smoke, nor was there enough of it to confidently say the van was in any sort of danger of catching on fire or exploding. Perhaps that is just your subconscious telling you <span class="mu-g"> “I’m already dead. What’s the worst that can happen to me now? </span> Perhaps it was because the smoke reminded you of something. Or someone. That’s right. You remember your great grandfather Elias for some reason. He smoked four cigarettes a day. One after each meal and one right before bed. Most would think a man like that would not last very long, but he ended up dying at the ripe old age of 102 from natural causes. You would always joke that if he had not been a chain smoker he would have lived to be 500. Sometimes you even believed it. Ah. That explains why you suddenly thought of him. The smoke you were smelling was tobacco.
You slip your hand up and over the window to unlock the door, silently cracking it open so you can climb on in and see what that odor of burning tobacco was coming from. Hopping up into the van sent a shake throughout the vehicle, momentarily pausing your inspection as you waited and listened for any noise. Certainly if anyone was inside, they would have felt or heard you climb into the parked van. Nothing could be heard or felt course throughout the floor, though. After a couple of seconds of wait, you continue, climbing past the driver’s seat and into the back, where your view forward was obstructed by a thin veil. Wherever that tobacco smoke was coming from was behind this curtain. With a deep breath, you shove the thin barrier aside, stepping through to be met with a man sitting at the very end of the van, smoking a cigarette and looking up at you. <span class="mu-r"> Took you long enough. </span> <span class="mu-g"> You knew I was in here? </span> The man nodded. At least he looks like a man. If you did not know any better, you would say he looks more like a lion. A thick golden beard and an equally strong mullet running down the back of his head and spilling onto his shoulders. Big and brolic with muscles poking out of his shirt everywhere you looked and scars covering his face. Surely he must have some interesting stories to tell about each one of them, just like with you and your own scars.
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