For some odd reason Gnter's mind started shifting into a different mode"he was at an old friend's work place, at a party [dreaming], he always liked a good cigar now and then, on special occasions that is, --and Molly, the secretary, asked him if he wanted one. He looked at her, said 'yes,' in an inquisitive way, and to his misfortune, it was quite small. Bewildered he gave no response except, a shallow: 'Thanks,' and went about and lit it. Then the old friend"the one that mysteriously appeared, appeared one might say out of nowhere"was sitting by him, he wanted to try the cigar out for him, smoke it that is. But there wasn't much, especially for both of them, and only nearly enough for him. As if there was not enough air in the room, and of course, you cannot share what you do not possess [he confessed to himself], and if there is a want or need, it is on the beholder's side. Nonetheless, he hesitated, and looked stern into his face, his youthful face, a face that didn't age like his, 'I have an idea,' he says to the old friend, 'put the end of this cigar into your pipe, and then you'll have enough to enjoy.' The mystic friend looked at him pleased, and just happened to have a pipe on hand, and pulled it out while, Gnter put the cigar, what was left of it anyways, into the barrel of the pipe, and gave it to his stranger-friend. As the friend smoked from the pipe he started to choke, as if he was spitting up tobacco, pieces of the cigar, or blood, something; his throat was choking on it anyhow, and it was burning, a fatal burning sensation. He didn't know what to do, so he told him, '...here, here take some water, swallow it, quick, and cool the throat, it'll put out the flame', and the friend did so, and all was well for the moment.

Now, Gnter walked away from the table, and its festivities, finding himself by the store next to the office party. He noticed cigars for sale, big cigars, now he thinks: why didn't Molly tell him they had big cigars here, instead of the little one, thinking of course, it would have possible solved the problem with him sharing his cigar and not causing the coughing of his friend. 'Peculiar,' he tells himself, very odd indeed, yet it is left at that. Then the old man shook his head, told himself, 'stop day dreaming, rescue Jean-Lee.' As he found himself opening up his eyes up, he was also spitting out water. (He had been drowning, sinking, in the Mississippi, and had mentally let go for a moment; now above water, his mind reactivated.)