To buy a pack of smokes.

I woke up in the morning. Well, noonish more so. Noonish meaning three o'clock. After a nourishing meal of cold pizza and questionable milk, I decided it was time to smoke. I reached for my pack in my jacket pocket. Alas it lay crumpled in the palm of my hand like a pathetic still-born chick. The last cigarette it contained had more tears in it than the declaration of independance. I would need to buy more cigarettes.
The door to my apartment locked *snick* behind me as I rooted through my pockets for money. All I had to show for my archeological dig through gum wrappers and ATM receipts was three dollars and sixty five cents, just enough for a pack of generics. "Glad I dont live in california," I though to myself, " You need to take out a loan to buy a carton over there."
I walked from my building to my jalopy in the parking lot. I reached back into my pockets for my keys, but came up empty. I had locked myself out of my apartment AND my car. My obsceneties floated in front of my face, it was fifteen degrees below zero outside, who knows what it was with the wind chill. "I wish I lived in california." I said under my breath.
So I began my long trudge through badly shoveled walks and slushy quagmire streets toward the gas station. "At least I can still get some smokes," I thought, "Its not so cold outside, I've seen worse." I said as the stuff in my nose began to freeze. I slipped on an ice patch caught myself with my hands in a snow bank, although numb they bristled with the pain of too hot bath water. My body heat caused the snow on my pants to melt, it looked like I had wet myself, a lot.
Six blocks to go. I flicked my zippo a-light to warm my fingers and fend off frost bite. Whenever I did as such the wind, which was blowing harder now, would snuff my life giving flame. Walk, walk, flick, warm, snuff, repeat. "Should have worn gloves." I mumbled to myself, Imagining I could feel my hands.
Four blocks to go. Im trembling now, my hands thrust deep into my wet, jacket pockets . The snow has worked its way into my shoes, now they make a delightful slogging sound. Now I cant feel my toes. "Almost there, this isnt so bad. I just need to keep moving."
Two blocks to go. I decide that the trip will go much more quickly if I run, it might warm me up a bit too. I start to run, the devil wind wipping and chafing my face, my runny nose freezing just above my lip into a sick moustash. The sign! I can see the gas station sign ahead! Nearly there! I double my pace. I slip on another patch of ice. My hands are in my pockets, so I cant catch myself. I cant image how bad my face looks, but I can tell im bleeding. "Does blood freeze?" I think to myself. I soon find out.
One block to go. Im hobbling now. I hurt my knee on the last fall. The cold sends my body into seizure like tremors. At least the shivering warms me a bit. Im so close! So so close! I can taste the cigarette! I can feel its warmth at my fingertips. I can feel the relief it will bring. A sudden gust of wind picks up the powdery new snow and throws it in my face. Visibility is only about ten feet. The sign still glows in the mist.
Im there! I walk through the parking lot up to the oddly dark store. Its locked. Theres a sign on the door that says "Closed early do to inclement weather. Have a Nice Day" "Inclement my ass!" I shout. "It cant be any lower than fifteen below!" I found out later it was thirty below, forty below with windchill.
I stumble into a phone booth to get out of the wind, cursing the convenience store gods . I sat there planning what to do next. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye somthing gleamed. Someone had stashed a cigarette in a nook behind the payphone! I praised the telephone booth gods as I placed the cigarette betwixt my lips. I clumsily snap open my lighter with numb fingers and spin the striker. *Spark* *Spark* *Spark* It would not light. I had run out of fluid while warming my fingers earlier in my trek. I slide to the ground on the verge of tears. I feel like Job, except I dont believe in god.
I gather my wits and slide two quarters into the payphone. I call a friend , he will pick me up. So I sit in the booth, feeling colder than I ever have before. "I wish I lived in california." I say to myself.
His car appears through the wall of snow. My wet hand sticks to the handle as I open the door. "Shit man! You look like hell." He states the obvious. We begin to drive in his nice, warm car. "Want a smoke?" He asks, tilting a pack in my direction. "No thanks" I say. "I think Im going to quit."