Here are the first two I wrote this morning:
This will be my last cigarette and I savour the feel of the smoke in my lungs and the rush of endorphins to my brain. It’s at times like this that I feel as if all things are possible and my days will know no end.
All of time and space are at my disposal at last! Perhaps I’ll witness Hannibal’s elephants crossing the Alps, or stop Oswald shooting Kennedy. Or maybe I’ll undo what never should have occurred and stop my parents meeting.
But the one I finally chose to submit was this one:
The liquid life that I pull up through my roots has nourished me for decades, allowing me to spread my boughs wide. When the wind rustles through my leaves, I am filled with so much love for all the life that surrounds and suffuses me. But if that little shit climbs me one more time, I swear I’m going let him fall to his death.