"Burning smoke bursts down into my lungs. Afterwards it will leave a feeling of light satiety and a heavy aftertaste. But it will occur in two minutes. And for now I have the last cigarette that I intend to smoke. I know that I will have time to do this before the arrival of the bus, which will take me to the opposite direction from the house, which I had to say goodbye to this time. Goddamn lighter is failing again. Knew I had to grab the matches, they are much secure and the only thing that can happen to them is that they will break. How ironic and how similar it is to the last 24 hours. Turn up! At last.

   Just a minute until the bus. Got to smoke faster.  Heck! Wasn’t enough fire to ignite a cigarette properly and it went out. Now, that’s more like it. Inhale, another one. It is quite interesting, when did such little things begin to acquire a global character at the moments like this. It is as if something irreparable will happen from just one unfinished cigarette.
The wind scatters hair over my face and helps me light up tobacco, speeding up the process of burning the cigarette. As if the wind seeks to preserve my health more than I do. 

   Thirty seconds until the bus. I would have to think about where my path lies now. But making plans is clearly not my forte, so I have to rely on intuition. I'll get on this bus and I’ll just leave this place at once. There is still time to figure it all out."