The non-smoking carriage

“Excuse me...” A light tap on my shoulder. Annoyed I look up from my magazine. The boy in the pathway is nearly sixteen years old and the insecurity that comes with this age clearly shows through his voice, facial expression and posture.
“What do you want?” I move my bag away in case he might want to sit next to me, but not very invitingly. There is plenty of space for him in the rest of the train.
“Err, I was wondering if you realized this is a non-smoking carriage.” His gaze flicks from my eyes to the cherry of my burning cigarette.
“Ah, I see,” I say, waving my fag at the sign. “But I'm not bothering anyone, am I?”
He looks around the empty coupé, and moves from one foot to the other, not knowing what to answer.
“Am I?” I press on.
“Well...” He coughs.
“Don't be coy!”
“Yes, actually, you are bothering me.” He blushes.
“Well, why don't you sit somewhere else then?”
He nods, looking at the floor.
“So what are you waiting for?” I kill my cigarette in the garbage can and take the package out of my bag. Actually I'm not a chain smoker, I'm just trying to make a point, so triumphantly I light a new Silk Cut as he wavers to the next carriage – the smoking area.