“I will give you three dollars for a cigarette,” he said, cowling down in front of her as she sat in the airport lounge waiting to board. “I do not smoke” she replied, hoping that his sudden appearance and annoyance would go away. “Oh, I am so sorry. I could have sworn I smelled cigarettes on your coat. I beg your pardon.” He bowed his head and walked away with folded hands like a choirboy who had just been scolded. But she did smoke. She had just had one twenty minutes ago and she wanted another. Note to self; buy more perfume before arriving at the clinic. Who was she kidding? Three dollars for a cigarette; not bad.  She could have sold him the pack and paid for her ticket. Suddenly a bit of paranoia swept over her and she examined all aspects of her being there; strangers were watching. The “America Love it or Leave it” bumper sticker on her carry-on had her wishing she had left Richard’s carry-on at home and taken her own. Yet while she hid some things very well she had the feeling that other things about her were more noticeable than she wanted them to be. The suitcase began speaking to her and she sat back and quietly listened. All I can say is that it is about time we got out of that apartment. Richard would not have been pleased we stayed in the house so long. It had been a problem trying to decide where to put Richard on the trip.  But then again she never went anywhere without him. The carry-on was fine for now. But she was wondering, was he as obvious as the smell of cigarettes? Going on a trip with an urn full of  Richard was impossible.