Durry

“Fire-head lady, you got a smoke?” asks the younger of the two men. “You got a durry. Cigarette.”

He pulled a tobacco pouch out of his pocket with a plastic bag containing what had to be a mind-altering substance. “You′re welcome to join me in a durry,” he said, rolling himself a cigarette.

He thought for a moment as he deftly rolled the paper and tobacco into a durry, licked the edge and stuck it down.

This was the first thing Yolanda knew in the dark morning. (That and where's my durries?)