Lucille stood solemnly outside of the church, fiddling with a box of cigarettes as she wrestled them from her pocket. Thin fingers dancing across the opening as she pulled one out. Whilst she was unaware of her physical appearance due to her blindness many would regard her as looking rather haggard. Fingernails black as tar and hair greasy and yet none of this mattered as she leaned against the church's pillar. For a brief moment she could rest unburdened by God's demands, simply focusing on the way the cigarette felt under her grip.