a writer's life

He had one cigarette left.
He lit it up , inhaled the smoke slowly and closed his eyes.
He has seen it. That light at the end of the darkness.. Those bright shining layers reflected on his Crystal mind.
He smiled. Threw the cigarette away.
Took a sip of coffee.
His image was reflected on the surface of that black coffee.
- A monster is what these papers made me. A written human is what i'm making them to pay. He thought.
And what's more scary than humans ?
He saw the ending of his story when he closed his eyes.