I was waiting to cross the street on the northeast corner of the Pont Louis-Philippe. There was a soft drizzle which no one seemed to mind because it was better than the lashing sleet which had been falling minutes earlier. A well-dressed woman pulled a packet of cigarettes out of her bag and popped one into her mouth. While she was doing this one another cigarette fell out of the pack and landed on the ground. She bent to pick it up. I could see that it was only a little bit wet on the very end. She did not put it back into the pack. Instead, she placed it between the stones of the wall of the bridge, just above the level of the pavement. She waited a second to see that it was safe and that it would not roll off. Then she lit her own cigarette. The light changed and we all crossed the street.
Source: Finders Keepers