A Slender Pillar of Smoke

I leaned against the cool windowpane, sheltering my rolled craft behind the drape. The dull blue lighter sat firmly between my boots on the sill. With a measured strike, the flint sparked. A tiny flame kissed the twisted tip. A faint, pungent ribbon of pale gray smoke curled upward into the noon beam, drifting lazily toward the ceiling. The aroma was rich and heavy. I took a slow, deep breath behind my mask, watching the drift thin out into nothingness. Peaceful. My perimeter is veiled and serene.