A Dying Conversation

A beedi and a cigarette were lying beside the road. Both were used to their optimum capacity and were burning out on their few, last precious breaths. 

The beedi called out to its high-end cousin,

Beedi: "Hey, psst..."

Cigarette: "What?"

Beedi: "So who did you?"

Cigarette: "Did me? Get out! Nobody 'does' me. I am smoked passionately. Unlike the lot of you, I don't burn out at every chance I get."

Beedi: ...

Cigarette: "See, I burn evenly, gently; I give scope to my killer to kill me slowly and in turn, I return the favor. Some of my relatives are full of wood, though, and some are only about high-grade nicotine. I, on the other hand, am a delicate mix of the two."

Beedi: "I may be cheap, but I demand attention, and I don't kill. I make them suffer the consequences. Tuberculosis is not a very good thing to carry, just so you know. Besides, I am raw; I don't need a filter to selectively eliminate my emotions."

Out of the two, one had a troublesome death. The other, painful realizations.