I had come on an errand that could have used a map and less imaginationāpick up a package, sign a receipt, be gone by dusk. But thereās weather inside some people that calls for umbrellas. Eveās kind is a storm you want to walk into barefoot. She slid open a cigarette tin and offered one like a treaty. I took it even though I donāt smoke. The smoke smoldered between us and drew a thin blue curtain where anything could be said and be true.