"You shouldn't smoke. It'll kill you," she said as I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my jacket.
I extracted a cigarette and said, "I smoke to keep something alive."
"A memory of a girl. She always smoked. Everything around her smelled like a camp. Especially her car. I loved it. I loved her."
"What happened to her?"
"She died. Actually, that's not true. She was murdered."