Digging his hand deep into his pocket, he clenched a cigarette.

He wanted to stop, but the urge was too strong to let go so easily—especially now.

Shaking, he lit it—soaked, but still burning.

The first inhale stung his throat, but the familiar burn steadied his trembling hands just enough to keep moving forward.

He turned toward a nearby trash can. “I'll leave it here for now.

Too much danger taking it with me... it’s not of much use since that damn—" He threw a small plastic object at the opposite wall.

Crack.

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The plastic bounced off, breaking apart in the dim light, leaving behind a small trail of shattered pieces that matched the dull surroundings—flickering neon lights, a foggy view, and the cold gray paint of the walls.

The misty air seemed to swallow the sound, leaving only the faint hum of the distant city, the clattering echoes of people talking, laughing, screaming, and phones ringing. Far in the background trains rushed by, adding to the suffocating soundscape, accompanied by the erratic flickering noise of the lights.

Voices, muffled but clear enough to make out snippets, mingled with the rhythm of the district. “Anyway, I think I’m good for now...

I have to be.

For them.” He took a final deep puff from the cigarette, trying to shake off the unease creeping up his spine, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at him.

His head sank low as he eyed a picture in his pocket depicting a happy Family. The photo is soaked in mud and dirt, just like his clothes.

His gaze shifted back to the cigarette, its ember burned dangerously close to his fingers.

He flicked the butt onto the ground—where at least five others already lay—before stomping it out with his heel.

The silence around him now felt more suffocating than before. “What was that? I need to keep going... quick.” His thoughts turned to his family. “The tracker’s broken.

There’s no way they’ll—" He turned a corner and froze.

A long, metallic barrel of a gun was pointed directly at him.

His breath caught in his throat—time seemed to freeze.

His mind raced, but his body was paralyzed.

He smelled the faint, dying scent of the cigarette still on the ground, barely giving off any smoke.

*BANG*

Then, the sound of a Gunshot shattered through the air.