One last drag..

She flicks the lighter on-- the flame of fire warms her hand for a split second-- off. She flicks it off. She flicks it on again. Off.

She twiddles the cigarette in her other hand between her fingers. She takes in the smoothness of it-- and imagines the high she will get off it. The echoes of the past continue to haunt her. She flicks the lighter again.
She sighs, not being able to see her own hand in front of her once she flicks the lighter off.

She stands up from her fetal position on her bed, and walks over to her window. The windowsill drenched with rain, trickling down her bedroom wall. She puts the lighter near the head of the cigarette. She flicks it on.

'Who cares anyway?  It's only one cigarette.'