Lighting Up

It's a Thursday morning on a fine day in early October, a bit before half past ten. Opinion is divided over whether there's any need for a coat; this man is firmly in the 'keep the breeze out' side. There's a handy bench near where someone is selling flowers, and he sits down on it for a smoke. Perhaps he's waiting for a companion to finish their errands; perhaps he simply feels a bit fatigued. It's 2012, over ten years ago now, before Covid and the worst effects of austerity. Although there are still pubs in the locality (not so many since though) he has chosen not to go for a swift half. The beer in this town has never been its strongest attraction. Perhaps he reckons it's not worth the asking price, or he doesn't bother with drink, or he prefers his own company. Some pub customers have a habit of being objectionable even this early in the morning. He keeps a canvas bag close to him; many chaps might prefer not to have custody of a bag, but the older you become the less you care, and a bag is indisputably handy for odds and ends you need to get for the daily grind. There's a bus stop not far away. He could be waiting for the next service and there is time to spare. I bet he could tell a few stories, but would he want to? Probably best not to interrupt. He might want time to think.