The smoking area was on the side of the building, a narrow outdoor space with a couple of benches and an ashtray stand and the particular atmosphere of a place that existed purely for function and made no apologies for it.
Lance found it by following the exit signs on the ground floor.
He pushed the door open, stepped out into the cool evening air and reached into his inside jacket pocket. He had started smoking two years ago in the way that people pick up habits during periods of their lives they would rather not examine too closely. He had told himself it was temporary.
He lit the cigarette and leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly.
The city hummed quietly beyond the narrow strip of sky visible above the building's edge. Lance looked at it and thought about nothing in particular and let the cigarette do what cigarettes did.
He heard the door open behind him.
He didn't look up.
