Prompt: A man is smoking a cigarette. Make me understand what he’s feeling without using any ‘thought’ verbs.
Leathery skin spoke of how many hot summers the old man had seen regardless of how his hands shook. The bright white near his roots was a stark contrast from the cheap black hair color he had once put in. He took a deep breath from his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly with thin lips that pulled taut over his face.
His beady eyes were filled with tears as he leaned against the dusty barn, looking out over the empty, barren landscape that surrounded him. The small remains of the crops they had planted months ago stood like tiny blackened grave markers in the carefully dug rows. He clutched to his chest a small fabric doll with buttons for eyes and a blue polka dot dress.
In the distance the car disappeared over the horizon and he could no longer see the blue eyes that had been staring at him out of the back windows. The old man dropped his cigarette to the ground and then collapsed alongside it. It was all too much for any man to bear.
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