The first crack didn’t hurt. A rib. Calcium deficiency, the doctor said. Three weeks of rest. Steve swapped to vapes.
Vapes made his mouth dry. Next time, two ribs broke, same time. It hurt. The X-ray came back wrong. Interference. He promised his body—this was his last pack.
Then it was three. Same time. He screamed. Like his ribs were claws digging into his lungs. Every morning he coughed up mouthfuls of penny-sized clots, black like tar.
When the surgeons looked inside, they found the old transplant scars and a message scratched into his lungs.
Billy doesn’t like smoke.
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