“What is that smell?”

I closed my eyes and sniffed. It was drifting over from the next table.

Unmistakeable.

Pipe smoke.

Not something one smells often in this day and age.

The fragrance whisked me back to high school. My first girlfriend… and all of the pleasures and pains that surrounded her. Mostly pleasures.

Drive-in movies. The lake shore. Releasing the parking brake, accidentally, and nearly losing the car. The bridge. Those eyes. Those… eyes.

Her sister… another story for another time.

And her father. You see, her dad smoked a pipe.

If pipe tobacco tastes as good as it smells, I can see how one might get hooked. Why, oh why, did they never make cigarettes smell/taste like this?

Maybe they did. I don’t know.

I opened my eyes… gazing into those beautiful, brown eyes. Inquisitive. Studying me from across the table. Filled with love and admiration.

And I smiled. With a subtle craving for tobacco. I may take up the habit.