Lighting the cigarette

Was there ever such a cold evening? She couldn’t remember the last time it had been this cold out. She sat on the bench, surveying her surroundings with a critical eye, pulling her jacket closer around her lithe body. The park was almost empty, except for a harried mother half-dragging, half-ushering a small boy homeward bound, who was whimpering that he wanted to play some more. The breeze gathered in speed as it whipped across her face, stinging her eyes and forcing her to close them tightly. The cold spattered against her cheek and her feet were already cold and tingling with numbness. The fallen leaves swirled into a tornado-like spiral, whooshing their way through the park grounds. She extracted a cigarette from her purse, affixed it to her mouth and closed her left hand over it, trying to light it with her jet-flame lighter. The cigarette tip began to burn bright with a slight crackling sound, she inhaled, filling her lungs with smoke. When she exhaled, the smoke from her mouth dispersed, creating clouds which drifted across her face, and she wondered sadly, when it was the love had died and took her heart.