Time is on my side.

I wound the watch’s stem and with each turn, I felt as though I was manipulating time in my own way.  No battery.  No solar.  This was a mechanical miracle.  Silver.  I was able to turn the notched stem until it couldn’t move any further.

I sat there with a smoldering cigar between my lips.  The smoke was slightly irritating my eyes.  The second hand was slightly spacing seconds as it should.  This was a fine timepiece, and I knew once I completely pulled out the stem, I would be able to place the hour and minute hands into the present moment.

Lately, I was addicted to telling the time via my cell phone.  The tears in my eyes blurred my vision further distracting my attention to accuracy.  So I put the cigar in my left hand, but not before I drew a lush mouthful of smoke – holding it in briefly and exhaling the bouquet into the room.  

The timing was perfect as I could see through my eyes that the shade of the smoke matched the case of the watch causing it to momentarily vanish.  It was from what I could see about one am – a late hour.  Now Tuesday morning at night.

I never gave it much thought, but the two activities stilled my nerves.  The glint of the crystal glass cover and the absence of sound drew me deeper into a state of saturated stillness.  I was startled when the ash dropped onto my jeans.  I stood up and lightly dusted the remnants of the burned tobacco leaves onto the garage floor. 

I then stretched the concatenated metal strap and placed the watch onto my slightly moistened left wrist.  The irritation of the smoke began to dissipate.  I picked up a copy of the Times Literary Supplement and began to turn the newspaper pages hoping I would discover a book that would gravitate my interest – a common occurrence.

Nothing infested my curiosity except the subtle silence and the satisfying bouquet of the smoke.  I can’t recall how many pages I flipped through.  I finished the entire issue without a find only noticing that the cigar was more than two-thirds down.  The flavor of the cigar and the swirling smoke took my melting mind to almost past two in the morning.  

I was calm, relaxed, and sleepy.  I left the paper on the glass-topped table.  I drew in a nightcap of sensuous smoke and slowly released it into space.  I gently placed the nub into the ashtray. It was the right time for me to call it a night.  And I did.