They dissappeared somewhere along the way. I didn’t really miss them too much and never gave a second thought about where they could have gone. But when I arrived home in Albuquerque, as I dug through my purse, searching for my keys or some such something, I spied a renegade object down there in the depths.

A piece of Nicorette, still sealed in it’s protective blister pack. . . . now I ask . . . whom among you is responsible? And did you smoke all my cigs at least?