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The Doctor pulled out a cigarette from the wrinkled pack.
    "I guess the rules don't apply to you, ¿verdad doctor?" Julian asked as he pointed with his finger to the large "Prohibido Fumar" sticker stuck on the door.
    The Doctor turned around, his back was now facing Julian as he proceeded to peel it.
    "I've only been open for a few days and haven't had the chance to remove it. Some habits are hard to break; mine is a pack a day." 
   Unable to peel off the sticker from the door, the Doctor turned around; Julian was now standing in front of him with his gun pointed straight at the Doctor's head. "What do you mean only a few days?" Julian slowly removed his finger off the trigger. 
   "What kind of doctor are you?" Julian asked. 
    The Doctor kept calm and slowly raised his hands midway to his shoulders.
    "I'm a psychologist, and yes, I've only been here two or three days, I can't remember. I've been painting and fixing this place day and night. Please take my cell phone; it's in my briefcase, it's not the fake one."
   "Fuck!" Julian raised his voice in anger. 
   "I didn't come here to rob you, sit the fuck down." 
   Julian lowered his gun and began slowly pacing back and forth in front of the Doctor, murmuring. "¡Chingado, pinche cubículo!" 
    Julian sat down on the edge of the Doctor's desk, over towering the Doctor.
    "Baje las manos." he ordered the doctor. 
   The Doctor leaned forward to pick up the cigarette he had dropped on the floor and placed it between his lips again. 
   As the Doctor looked up at Julian, he asked-"Is there anything else you need?" 
   Julian answered, "Si, you have an extra cigarette for me?" 
   The Doctor removed the last cigarette from the wrinkled pack and handed it to Julian. The Doctor reached inside his vest pocket; Julian told him to stop then leaned forward while placing the pistol in the Doctor's groin and reached inside. He pulled out a lighter and gave it to the Doctor. The Doctor flipped the cap and started to rotate the spark wheel several times, unsuccessfully sparking a flame. 
   "Pinche encendedor", the Doctor complained.
   Julian noticed the Doctor struggling with the lighter and pulled out a small box of matches from his blazer. He took out a match and struck it. Julian stretched his arm out and positioned the match just close enough so that the Doctor could lean forward to make contact with the flame, but the Doctor hesitated, seeing how Julian still had the gun in his hand. Julian placed the weapon beside him on the desk and proceeded to light the Doctor's cigarette; he then lit his own. The Doctor took a deep draw, no doubt the best he's ever had. He placed the chrome-plated lighter upright on the table, facing towards Julian. Julian could see in the lighter's reflection the monster he had become through the haze of cigarette smoke. Julian picked up the cigarette lighter and, with his thumb, began to flip the cap up and down. The lighter had the Doctor's name engraved on the cap and, on one side, a personalized engraving-"Para mi Querido Doctor de Su Querida Esposa." 
   "It was a birthday gift from my wife," the Doctor uttered. 
   "¿Como?" Julian replied. 
   "Si, she passed away last year. She hated me for smoking. I've wanted to replace the-¿como se dice, wick?"
   Julian nodded. 
   "It would have been nice to see it work perfectly again one last time." 
   "Don't worry, Doctor, you'll probably die of cancer."

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