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Weekly Contest #360
[376:03:15] Love is akin to a midnight smoke.Pensively, a man stood on the roof of a 15-story hospital, his hands outstretched over the railing and a cigarette in his right hand. For a moment, he wondered how long it would take the cigarette to reach the ground if he let it drop. Then he remembered again his train of thought.No, no, that can’t be right. Smokes at midnight are, at the same time, warranted and unwarranted. The only traces they leave behind are stains on the parts of your body you cannot see and a ghost of ashes. Sometimes, you...
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