On our last trip to Motovun, my beloved and I brought several packages of our favorite cigars. “Once these are finished,” I boasted, “I’ll go without until I return to Zagreb.” We smoked a whole bunch together. Just before her trip back to Zagreb, she asked me how many were left. “Six,” I reported after checking. “Well,” she squinted expertly, “you will finish the lot in six days at most.” That was eleven days ago, but I am finishing the last cigar only as I write. I have nursed each and every one as long as I possibly could. My beloved’s kind prediction has given me the zest I needed for the special effort. Five extra days!