Tweek tapped the top of the cigarette case against the flat of his palm exactly twenty-two times before switching hands and repeating the process. Once they were packed on both hands a perfectly even forty-four times, he pulled off the plastic on the top half and flipped the white and gold box open. He pulled the tin foil off as well, meticulously crumbled up the plastic and covered it with the foil, then dropped it into the ash tray to his right with barely a second glance.
Once he had his cigarettes ready, he selected the second one in the first row and passed it over to Craig and then removed the second from the second row. He lit it with a hearty drag, leaning back in his seat as he exhaled the smoke with a sigh, the buzzing sensation of relief starting its humming pace through his brain.
Every new pack was treated the same, every second cigarette the perfect start to a day.
