their chains shall be broken

Two middle-aged men sit at a table in the Whole Foods near my work.  If they ever were eating or drinking anything, any trace is gone.  They seem settled in: to their spot, to their raincoats, to their conversation.  They watch as a "yoga and wellness" table is set up nearby, brochures set out, bundles of promotional pencils placed.  Their conversation flags as they observe, then one says, half-heartedly,  "I guess I could stop chain smoking a little."