I have been fantasizing recently of getting away for a bit. In my fantasies I am sitting on a sunny porch gazing across a lake while drinking wine and smoking clove cigarettes like a badass. I am talking to a good friend about a book I just read because I’ve been there long enough to read a whole book. In my fantasy I have a tan and look good in cut-offs, and my friend and I laugh in a worldly way about the sad things. As the evening draws closer it gets a little cold and we grab a blanket or a shawl, it could be the red shawl, to keep us warm. Later, when I am back at home and unpacking things I notice that the shawl smells a little bit like clove cigarettes and reminds me of what a nice time we had.