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September 14, 2010
On warm days, there's a guy who sits outside his apartment on State Street and smokes a vanilla cigar. He's blind, and he looks very old and somewhat withered, but he's out there almost every day, with a tin can to catch the ashes. He always has a smile on his face.

His cigars smell really good, too, and I notice them from all the way down the block as I'm coming home from work.

He wasn't out today, and I knew it was because it was too cold. I might not smell that vanilla cigar again until next spring.