She bowed her head and lit her cigarette with a match, the acrid smell of sulfer stinging her nose. She watched the match burn down to her fingertips before shaking it out and taking a deep drag of the filtered Marlboro. It burned her throat, bitter and harsh. She hadn't had a cigarette in 3 months but today she needed one, as she sat on the curb outside Fire House 121, trying to ignore the tremble in her hands and the tears welling up behind her eyes. She refused to cry. McCain women do not ...

She bowed her head and lit her cigarette with a match. She let the match burn itself down to her fingertips before shaking it out and taking a deep drag of the filtered Marlboro. It burned her throat, bitter and harsh. She hadn't had a cigarette in 3 months but she need one today to help ignore the tremble in her hands and the tears welling up behind her eyes. She refused to cry. McCain women do not cry. They rage, they bitch, they nag and they brawl, but they most certainly do not cry. She t...