Coat

The room was cluttered with electronic devices, none of which worked or else they weren't configured properly, or something. God knows. He didn't understand it and he definitely couldn't recommend it. He kept checking his email, every half hour or so, and the the inbox kept showing up empty.
At some point he lifted his pack of cigarettes and put on a coat. He ventured out into the wintry afternoon with the intention of ambling around and smoking.
He was a tender bastard at heart. He wanted a soft naive face to caress, slender shoulders to embrace. He didn't want much else. He didn't care for much else. Everything else seemed inane in comparison.
The sun was dipping, the sky dimming, objects slipping into imperceptibility. Walking in the woods over a mush of leaves, the smouldering glow of his cigarette tip hovered before him.