Steven Spiegel

"Open your eyes, Mr Spiegel" a kind female voice whispered.
I opened my eyes and confusion washed over me as I saw what seemed the watery remains of an impressionistic painting. My hand like a molten piece of wax passed my line of vision. I stared at the dripping outline of my fingers.
"Cigarette" I croaked.
"You can't smoke here. You're in a hospital."
"Cigarette" I repeated calmly.
"I'm sorry I can't allow you to smoke here. It's not good for your new eye."
Last I remembered I'd been dumped by my girlfriend and then shot in the face by my best friend. Now the world was one big mix of LSD colours.
I sighed.
"Cigarette" I repeated once more.