The screen door slammed to a close behind her as she stepped outside into the gray and misty mid-afternoon. Slowly she turned the small box over in her hands, pulling off the plastic wrap as she went. As she opened the box the smell flooded her nostrils, and for a moment she was nostalgic for the time when this was routine. She recalled evenings staring at stars, long road trips, and deep conversations. She pulled one of the small cylinders up to her lips and reached into her pocket for the same lighter she had used years before. The clove crackled as it caught fire and she inhaled deeply. The feeling was familiar, yet distant. The minutes ticked by along with the memories, and her lungs started to burn as the pleasant recollections gave way to bitter ones. She flicked the cigarette to the ground and covered it with her shoe. She walked to the edge of the yard to the garbage cans and with a heavy sigh dropped in the still full box. This time, she knew there was no going back.