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January 16, 2017
Ronnie was walking past the old grocery on Main and Dugan Street. The sun felt good buffering the cold air. He glanced at the pile of ash up against the grocery wall. It was in the place where the cigarette manís clothes had been, the same spot where he had sat leaning up against the wall. The ashes were damp with a few bits of paper embedded in them. Ronnie walked on past the drug store. He was wondering if he should have given the cigarette man something, perhaps a breath mint if not a cigarette. Anything might have helped.