Fresh coffee filled the air around my compact home. If one could even call it a home. In all honesty it was more of a tin shack only big enough for a bed, a small fridge, and a small bathroom.

I watched as the paper of my cigarette burned away. The tobacco turned to ash and the grey smoke curled in a graceful pattern. I took another drag as the last few drops filled my coffee pot.

I filled a styrofoam cup and left it the bitter flavor I never use to like. As of late I'd preferred the harsh taste. I didn't deserve a sweet escape from reality.

I step out and gazed at the bleak afternoon skies. My heavy steal door clicking shut behind me. It was just cold enough that my breath alone was visible.

Eventually after a few sips of my drink I dropped the remaining bit of my cigarette into the cup. It was a waste. I knew that but I couldn't bring myself to consume more than that.

I took myself to the only place that could bring me any comfort. The tracks.