“Not my brand,” and he waved away the pack I’d offered him. I lit up and took a drag.

“You always smoke on a stakeout?”

“Sure. It helps me relax.”

“Wait! There’s our boy!” He picked up the binoculars and followed the balding guy in a blue coat. “That’s right Bobby boy. Turn around and smile for the camera.”

Bobby boy turned around. He must have caught sight of the coal on my cigarette. He gave us two shots; one through the door, one through the window. My partner caught both.

I don’t smoke anymore.

(Submunitions: Stories under 100 words.)

Too good an exercise to pass up. Saw these first on warren_ellis's page.