I see that I now have two half-smoked cigarettes lit and sitting next to one another in the ashtray.

"Are you okay, Tim?" She asks. "I’ve never seen you like this."

"Like what?" I ask, taking a swig of half-brandy, half-coffee.

"Like, so…" she says, and now she’s searching for the right word, a word to really drive home her point. "Idiosyncratic." She smiles, and through the thick haze of my contacts her smile is half-worry, half-pity, and half-pride.

"Mentally," I say, "I’m great, really. I just maybe need some sleep." I pick up one of the cigarettes I’m half-smoking and smoke it, looking into the coffee shop at the counter. "I need another cup of coffee, dude…"

"Why aren’t you sleeping?" She asks.

"It’s the whole creative process." I say. "It’s burdensome, but it’s extremely healthy."

"But you’re killing yourself." She says. She picks up her coffee and quickly sets it down, as if her appetite for it has vanished.

"If this is killing myself," I say, and pick up both half-smoked cigarettes, smoking them both at the same time, "then I seriously don’t want to live, dude."

She half grimaces, half gags and checks her wrist for a watch that isn’t there. She half yawns and half stretches.

"I should get going, Tim," she says, staring at me. "I’ve got to sleep before I run some errands this afternoon."

"Okay," I say, half disappointed.

"Plus," she says, "you’re freaking me out, man."

I half nod, half shrug, and take a drag from one of my cigarettes.

"Do you need a ride?" She asks, half glancing at the pocket where my flask is hidden.

"No," I say, "I’ll walk. My place is…" and I point to the massive purple Rockies in the west, "just half a block thattaway."

"I thought you lived," and she points to the south, "off Evans."

I look at her half extended pointer finger, just a fleshy twig through the heavy mist of my lenses.

"Um," I say, and mash both cigarette butts into the ashtray. My friend, she shakes her head, stands up, and tosses her half-consumed cup of coffee into a nearby wastebasket.

"Go home and get some sleep, Tim."

I nod and half pretend to listen to her.

"And good luck with your book." She says, a look of pure mystification on her face. "Let me know if you ever get it done."

"Yeah," I say, and half hug her. "I’m almost halfway there."