There's somethin' intriguing about a cigarette vending machine. It stands there, patiently dispensing its cargo, a beacon in the hustlechaos. It's a ritual for some, a quick fix from the {stressstrains of the world. You drop your coins, listen to the clinking sound as it releases, and quickly you're

Think about it: those cigarette vending machines are like little gateways to addiction. They're/They always there, lurking in corners/shadows/hidden spots, whispering temptations into your ear. Every time you walk by, you see that bright, glowing display, filled with packs/cartons/sticks of cigarett