I stepped into the room and was immediately greeted by wisps of smoke, swirling playfully around me.

There, in the far end of the room was my grandfather; his gaunt and withered body clad in the almost translucent shirt that he wears, day after day. The metal keychain that he uses accompanied his every moment with a soft clink.

On his desk were scraps of wood, pieces of metal and plenty of tools. Placed conveniently on the floor was his familiar suitcase of jars of different shapes and sizes, some sprinkled with remnants of blackened tissue.

And within his arm's reach, was a pack of cigarettes; its content dwindling fast.