An Unpleasant SituationMilia stood shivering and barefoot in a dim, muddy cell, stripped of all but her silk slip. Even this was torn in places, not to mention wet. Her fingers trembled as she felt for the hemline of her skirt and came upon a bulge in the fabric. She began to rip at it manically, desperate for the concealed object.
A single cigarette and matchstick fell out.
She took the matchstick in one hand then held the cigarette to the tunnel lights with the other, rolling the d**g between her fingers. Thankfully, it was still dry. She limped towards the cell door with chattering teeth, then struck the match across the iron bars—once, then twice.
A flame ignited.
Milia brought the cigarette to her swollen lips slowly then lit the other end of the stick, afterwards dropping the mat
