They sat, side by side, on a low concrete wall that bordered the beach. Beyond them stretched Lake Michigan. The beach was dotted with sunbathers, gay men and families alike all mixing amicably in the summer sun and heat. Kids played in the freezing water—the water in the lake was always freezing—seemingly unperturbed by the icy temps.
“So why do you have cigarettes if you don’t smoke?” Wren asked.
“I used to—like the fuckin’ proverbial chimney. Then I wised up. This was the last pack I bought, many, many moons ago. They’re probably stale, but for some reason, keeping them on me makes it easier to stick to my quit. Weird, huh?”
“Nah. I think I get it. It’s sort of like security?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So what made you do it?” Wren finally got to what he really wanted to ask.
“You mean wo
