Perfection

The sun gently lights the air and a soft breeze blows the trees to the left. You know it's about that time, so you tell those two to meet you at the picnic table. Looking into the box, you take the last three good ones out because today is perfect for their savory sweetness. You pour coffee into that big mug before sliding into your shoes and walking into the echoes of the yellow corridor. You kick the corridor door out of the way because the door will swing to the right, releasing everything into the Sun. Slowly walking with coffee in one hand and cigars in the other, the body moves confidently but lackadaisically. Looking out into the campus, you sit not on the seat of the picnic table but on the actual table to create an air of relentless dignity. Soon one of them walks around from the building on the right and the other repeats your trail in his own nature. You hand them each a cigar, and everyone lights up, settles down, and looks out to the campus. Followed by slow sips, smoke moves freely from the mouth and into the air, consuming everything in its path. Everything must be done slowly.