You cupped your hand over your cigarette, desperately trying to light it. You stood on the porch of the general store in Valentine, seeking shelter from the rain under the eaves. "Shit!" you swore. Your last match had failed to light your cigarette, and gone out, leaving you unable to light your cigarette. You threw the burnt match into the mud in frustration as a man walked out of the store, putting a couple bottles of booze in his satchel. He looked you up and down with a chuckle. "Need a light?" he asked. You turned around and accepted gratefully. He took a pack of matches out and skillfully struck one. He cupped his hand around the cigarette in your mouth and held the match's lit head to the tip of the cigarette. To your surprise, it finally caught. He shook out the match then tossed the burnt remains into the mud. "There we go."