I look across the table and think (fiery with love), ask me, go on, ask me to do something impossible; something freakishly useless, something unimaginable and inimitable. Like making a finger break into blossom or walking for half an hour in twenty minutes or remembering tomorrow. I will you to ask it. But all you say is, Will you give me a cigarette? And I smile and, returning to the marvelous world of possibility, I give you one with a hand that trembles with a human trembling.