“The Last Puff”
Darren found the vape pen on the bar counter after closing.
He was the last one in “Neon Fog,” a dive that smelled like spilled beer and bad decisions. The vape didn’t belong to any of the regulars—too sleek, too new. A chrome cylinder with a faint, pulsing glow. The engraving on the side read:
LIMITED EDITION.
He shrugged. A free vape was a free vape.
First puff—smooth. Cotton candy. Then came the whisper.
“Another hit, Darren?”
He froze. The bar was empty, the jukebox long dead. The vape buzzed in his palm like it was laughing. When he tried to set it down, it stuck—as if his fingers were glued to it. The metal was hot, throbbing like it had a pulse.
Outside, the fog thickened. He staggered into the parking lot, coughing, but the vapor didn’t leave his mouth—it poured out, swirling around him, sweet and heavy. For a moment, he thought he saw faces in it.
When the morning bartender arrived, the bar was silent. Just the faint hiss of vapor. Darren’s phone lay on the counter, screen cracked, and beside it—the vape pen. Bigger now. Its light pulsed faster, brighter.
That night, someone else found it—a rideshare driver, waiting for his next pickup. He didn’t question the strange warmth or the whisper that came after the first puff.
By the weekend, half the town was gone. All that remained was a low, sugary mist that clung to the streets, humming softly, like something alive.
The engraving on the side of the vape had changed.
It no longer said LIMITED EDITION.
It said INHALE FOREVER.
