Smoker
So there's this guy, and he smokes these cigarettes, they're very fancy, very expensive for him to get. He has the tobacco imported from Cuba which he then takes to a tobacco shop to get them to put brown paper and a filter over the tobacco, his own cigarettes. He smokes these frequently, he can't go more than a block without pulling out a cigarette. He has crates of them stacked up at his house, just because he smokes so frequently. The thing is, when he smokes, he has to sit down. He has to focus entirely on smoking that one cigarette. When he's finished, he sets the cigarette down on the ground and slides his shoes over it to put it out. Every morning, he has to go to work, a very difficult process. He doesn't have a car, because he can't smoke and drive and he can't pull over every few minutes to smoke, so he walks everywhere. His work starts at 7:00 a.m. and he has to leave the house by 6, the building is about a 15 minute walk away. If he doesn't leave an hour or so early, he will be late. He starts his walk today a bit late, 6:20. He walks fairly fast, trying to focus on the air and the smell of the freshly mowed grass, but he soon gets the feeling in the pit of his stomach, slowly moving up towards his head, that he needs one of his Cuban-tobacco-brown-paper cigarettes. He checks his watch, sits down, checks his watch again, then pulls out a cigarette. He pulls out his plastic purple lighter and lights it, inhaling the smoke. He stares at the smoke rising, until the cigarette is finished. He sets it down, slides his shoe over it, then continues on. Again trying to focus on other things, he makes it no more than a few steps before he gets the feeling in the pit of his stomach again. He checks his watch. 6:48. He sits down nervously, he's never been late, he can't be late to work. He lights another cigarette, sits down, and smokes hurriedly. He only makes it through half before he gets nervous, and slides his shoe over it, continuing on. He walks, almost at the building, ignoring the blinding headache signal for him to have one of his cigarettes, when his watch alarm beeps. It's 7:00. He hears the machines in his building start up, and he panics. He doesn't know whether to run or walk or just stop. He breaks into a run, then stops and sits down. He crosses his legs, pulls out his purple plastic lighter and a Cuban-tobacco-brown-paper-cigarette, he lights it and smokes, contently watching the smoke rise into the air.