lucky day

The door swung open. Staggering out of the bar, he fumbled for something in his pocket. Finally achieving his goal, he pulled out a cigarette. Half-bent and dirty, he placed it into his mouth only to realize…. He had no light. Shrugging, he continued to walk; cigarette still hanging from his lips. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he starred at his ever-pacing feet. The sun had already begun to set, and newspapers blew over the dimly lit sidewalk. His stomach grumbled. He couldn’t remember the last decent meal he’d had. Was it the noodles from Mrs. Chang’s down by the river? Or maybe that free sandwich Doris gave him, after screaming in his ear for what seemed like hours. On and on and on about how he never stopped by anymore and how he should clean up his act. Either way, he could care less. It didn’t change the fact that he had no money. Slumping into the nearby park bench, he glanced to his right. Resting on top of the rustled newspaper was a pack of matches. Picking it up, he saw there was one match left. “Must be my lucky day.”