Cigarete But [Fiction]

The still fired but of a cigarette was producing smoke. Smoke, that eventually got covered by the train.

He looked at it, but not really seeing it. Thinking of ending it there, but still, he didn't move.

The people getting on and off the train were numerous. Men and women of different ages, different colours, different shapes, different movement. The rainbows of them moved around. In and out.

But the sole person, standing there. He could feel the people bumping into him. He didn't mind. He didn't even care for their apologies.

The train left and the people stopped moving like ants. They were waiting, looking along the tracks.

He looked up, and saw the tiny wisp of smoke raising from the tracks. He shuddered, as he turned to left. Maybe tomorrow.

The wisp of smoke continued, until eventually dying out.