As a boy Winston was fascinated by cigarette machines. He liked the sounds. The ker-chunk of the knob pulled, and the soft cough of the cigarette pack landing on the tray.

Winston never smoked, and he said as much to the young woman he was chatting with at the neighborhood bar when she said it was a shame you couldn’t smoke in bars any more.

“I wouldn’t go to bars if there were smoke,” Winston said. He confessed that though he didn’t smoke, he loved the cigarette machines. “I could tell what kind of cigarette it was from the sound it makes landing on the tray when someone bought a pack.”

“That’s impossible,” the woman said. “And since there are no more cigarette machines, impossible to verify. Also, even if true, it’s a useless talent.”

“Probably true,” Winston admitted. “Do you have any useless talents?”

The woman thought for a minute. “Well, when I come, time stops.”

“That’s amazing,” Winston said. “Why is it useless?”

“Think about it,” the woman said. “If time stopped, the world would essentially end.”

Winston thought about it. “But, um, the world is still going.”

“It is,” the woman said. “Thanks to me.”

She laughed. Winston laughed.

Winston blew out a soft breath. “You’ve really never had an...?”

“Never,” she said.

“Maybe I could ... we could...”

“Maybe,” she said. “If you wanted to risk it.”

“I do!” Winston professed.

“Okay,” the woman agreed. “But if I do come, and if the world keeps going, I’m having a cigarette.”