Walking back to his place Sunday evening we passed a guy standing outside a doorway smoking a sigarette. A perfectly normal sight these days, but this guy had an empty mug in his hand which somehow didn’t quite seem to belong there – it didn’t look like he habitually brought his coffee outside when going for a fag. There was something just too “devil-may-care” about his stance to make it all seem entirely natural. Trying too hard. Just as we were passing, a window on the corner opened and a packet of sigarettes was hurled out onto the street.
Everyday drama.