On his way home from the biweekly blood bank trip, Stan held the large paper bag, its top folded, in a hand. The familiar tang of nicotine hit his nostrils, followed shortly after by a steadying of one lonely heart.
Hell of a drug, nicotine. Stan almost missed it.. Though the watered down nonsense kids these days were left with was a piss poor shadow of an excuse from what it had been back when he had been alive.
Ambling along, he crossed paths with the girl. "That much of a shitty day?" Came the cheery question complete with amiable tone.