Rusty Faucet: Part III

He reaches below his chair and feels for his pipe. He pulls the ancient-looking bowl from its hiding place and holds it in his lap. He turns it over in his hands, slowly inspecting its curves and crannies. He draws his fingers along the myriad of bumps and digs time has carved into the mahogany-colored wood As always, his gnarled knuckle finds its way to the only artificially made nooks for the finale of its tour. Niall’s eyes wince close as the wrinkled pad crosses over the inscribed lines. His bottom lip drops ever so slightly and quivers once before he opens his eyes and quickly reaches for his pouch of tobacco.

Niall methodically rocks back and forth as he packs the pipe full of dried tobacco leaf. He coughs twice before lighting the leaf with a long, wooden match. The tobacco draws a clear line of aromatic smoke and dances into the misty morning air.