Small shoulders toss aside a lock of blond in irritation as it ventures too close to the flame.
The small, but satisfying 'snick' and the whoosh of heat as the small orange and yellow flame comes into play.

The first sinful drag, and the relief of the rush of nicotine spreading throughout the senses.

This is where you are.

Standing outside  the building. On the outside looking in.

You live each day as you get it, and it's all a whirl of distant fading lights, sounds and colors.

Each less vivid than the last.

And you wonder.

Another drag taken into unhealthy lungs. A soft sigh as the smoke leaves your mouth in an exhale.

Watching people in bright colors pass you by, as you sit there in your black baggy sweater and black skinny jeans.

Contemplate away my dear.  

Slow and steady does not win  the race with nicotine.

Steady inhale, and a shaky exhale are all that follow.

Such days as these are best left to pondering.

A feeling of distance.

There is no understanding.

A tiny dot on the pavement to ones who are higher up than you.

Even as you agree to stay overtime, and work past your shift.

You still feel small.

Insignificant to the grand scheme of things.

But you can't help but wonder.

What it was that led you here. To this very place.

Well, my dear, you made choices.

Slow inhalation, and steadier exhale.

Rain falls in droves, and you try to protect your cigarette, as it is still only half gone, watching the steady trail of smoke as it is lost to the wind.

A silent clinking of rain, and a steady breathing. The only sounds you hear for miles.

A day like this is best left to ponder.