I took a sip of water and looked around the
room. Everything was normal, the paintings, the
chairs, the sofa, the lamps, except there was this
man standing in the corner. He was examining my
liquor collection and furnishings, barely glancing at
me, so I knew he must be harmless. His demeanor
was pleasant enough. “Come and have a cigarette
with me.” He said as I approached. “I don’t smoke.”
I said. “Well, this is the last chance you’ll have to
see me.” he said. “Ever?” I asked. “For the next
week or two, anyway.” he said. So we walked
out to my stairway that’s facing the street. We lit
up our cigarettes with hotel matches and
I coughed a bit because I hadn’t smoked since college.
My neighbor happened to be walking by. “I thought
you quit.” she said. “I only make exceptions for
esteemed guests.” I explained. “What’s your
name?” she asked him. “It’s not so much who
I am but where I come from.” he said. And then
he pointed to the night sky, deluding our view with
a heavy exhale from his mouth. “We aren’t allowed to
smoke up there. But they do have terrific weather,
I’ll send you a brochure.” He dipped his hat, ashed
his cigarette, and walked away. “I always
did like that guy.” I said, lighting up another one.