Burnt Ends  

Yesterday I lit a thin cigar while sitting on my front steps with my little boy. We got up, took a walk through the neighborhood, and enjoyed the time together. I puffed as he explored. He looked at the rabbit that lives next door and threw a handful of stones in a sewer grate.

My wife came home after awhile, and my boy ran to her. It was about then that the smell of my cigar—a well-aged Fuente Fuente OpusX Petit Lancero—changed dramatically. I looked down and noticed that I had smoked so much of the cigar that I had begun to burn the band. That’s the sign of a really great smoke.

I smiled, removed the scorched band, and went on smoking. This one was a beard burner.
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