I lit a cigarette before I went to work today. I didn't have time to finish it, but I put it out carefully and promised it I would come back for it after my shift.
By the time that I had gotten home, it was a bit damp and difficult to light; when I finally got it to light, it would go out soon after.
But, a promise is a promise, carefully and meticulously I traced the flame of my lighter back and forth across the paper to try and dry it just enough to hold it's ignition. I could have easily just grabbed a new one from the pack, but I felt indebted to this one, as I had promised it that I would return.
Eventually, it dried enough that I was able to smoke it to completion, and I enjoyed it during my somber reflection of my day.
I can only hope that there will be someone that cradles me in their hands tenderly and keeps their vow to come back to me, to make sure to leave the light on, to not give up on me just because I am of no use to them then.
I hope that someone cares enough to love me at my worst.