Daddy stopped short of sealing this cigarette. He pressed the tobacco firmly and then studied it as if judging the amount, deeming it not adequate for this thinking. He added more tobacco and then pressed it into shape again. He never licked the paper in a smooth, single stroke; he always darted his tongue in and out like a snake’s when he sealed the edge, almost attacking the paper in fits and starts of salivary globs. Not a wasteful man, he curled the ends for fear of even the smallest bit falling to the ground.