Smoke
She watched as the smoke mingled with his breath.
He had his ritual. He would go out onto the balcony at this time, every evening, rain or shine. He said once that it was his alone time, his time to get away from the troubles of the world. Whether he was reminiscing about past ordeals or thinking about the future, she did not know. Nor did she really want to know. It made him quite predictable in a sense.
No matter what he was doing prior to that time, he would always put aside that task to perform his ritual. She knew better than to get in the way of it. In some ways, she wished that he would quit it, yet in other ways, she was glad that it happened. It was comforting in a way to him.
A/N: Characters do not belong to me...they belong to Masashi Kishimoto.