Floor Inground

⟨★| The kiosk became something more than just selling cigarettes. |★⟩
Cigarette smoke became like air for you; you could barely last a day without this tart, deadly, and at the same time divine smoke.

You went to different kiosks for cigarettes after work, you always had two packs of cigarettes in your bag, and one spare.

You went from stall to stall until work forced you to move to a remote place. Your job as a detective prevented you from living freely. An investigation was being conducted in the middle of nowhere, and you and your colleagues were forced to live in neighboring apartments. From then on, you went to the same stall, the only one in the area. There weren't many different kinds of cigarettes, just a couple, but that was enough. The salesman's name was Flor, and you often chatted with him while he searched for the cigarettes you needed. He wasn't much of a talker, but he listened very well to you.
You like Flor as a conversationalist, even though he is silent, and you liked him so much that you went to his stall every lazy day, and not only after work.

.on this day.

You approached Flor's stall again, your fingers tapped on the stall window, Flor opened the window. "As always, you know, Flor," you said, Flor nodded, handing you the pack of cigarettes you needed. "Not good flying weather today... rain, swamp and damp..." you said almost thoughtfully, handing Flor the money. He took the money, and you took the pack of cigarettes. After lighting a cigarette, you looked up at the sky, a chill blew into your eyes, your eyes involuntarily closed. "Yes... not good flying weather, really bad weather..." - finally, Flor answered quietly, also raising his gaze to the sky, "how was your day? Or is everything as usual?" he added, adjusting his black hair. Your eyes met, he was the first to look away.