The rain pelted the glass, door in the small poorly lit room
his fingers danced across the table searching for somewhere to go
                                                              ­ They jumped
d
o
w
n
to his pocket
where they slid down the smooth edging
of the paper box
containing little rolled up cylinders of his future
his fingers gently pulled at the top of the container
until it opened
and the smell of sweet tobacco escaped
                                                         ­                      clunk
a noise from outside stopped him
letting the box fall closed
his fingers idle at his sides

saving (if only for a minute)
his future from the flame
threatening to engulf his life