The shape of a driver's hand holding a cigarette up to the cracked window to let the smoke out so her passengers don't get cancer. The elbow is perched on the door, the wrist pulled back like a pony's neck, the cigarette pointing skyward. It looks like a pony but when you add the cigarette, it's a unicorn. Suicide because, of course, smoking kills you as dead as Russian roulette.
Jane swears there's no place to smoke anymore except her car. I passed her on the highway this morning and there she was, sportin' the suicide unicorn.
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