Fiction in 58 (Nighttime Jitters)

Don't read anything into this. Just a scrap of an idea that was scribbled into the notebook. First go-round, it was 89 words. The economy of editing was troublesome.

Nighttime Jitters
The cigar ember lights a half-circle of darkness; he exhales smoke like truck exhaust through clenched teeth.
The dining room table is oak, ancient. He leans; the chair groans in response.
He fingers the glass, jingles the ice, pulls on the cigar.
On the table is a bottle of Scotch.
It’s either half-full or half-empty, depending on perspective.