A Measure of Ash

I sought a quiet interval among the shadow-laden crates behind the counter. Resting upon an overturned iron pail, I set down a small stone bowl to serve as my basin of embers. Between my fingers, I rolled dried aromatic herb leaves within a fragile slip of paper, sealing the taper with measured deliberation. A single spark met the tip, coaxing forth a thick, fragrant ribbon of pale smoke that twisted upward into the rafters. I watched the ember glow like an eye in the dimness, savoring the stillness while the chaotic mortal rhythm stirred beyond the doorway.