Saturday Smoke

Friday, 31 March 2006.

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Saturday evening on a street corner.

An unkempt man in a brown, tattered jacket walked up to me and asked, “Can I have a cigarette?”

“I'm afraid I don’t smoke,” I answered. (It was a lie, though: I'm not actually afraid of not smoking.)"

Oh,“ he replied as he plodded through the curtain of darkness surrounding the street light above. Something told me that it wasn’t the cigarette he was looking for.