Her words drift through the cigarette smoke, rising from fingers held in midair over the red cafe table where she sits with a friend. She had used these words before to weave the smoke strands into coherent conversations. Words move through the gray-white air in the nearly empty cafe, devoid of nightlife, just a few customers eating and breathing. The television is on. The video plays a Beatles documentary. Coffee cups resonate spoon stirs. She stops her well spoken words and turns her head toward the couple in the booth across the dusty aisle. Stirring stops and sipping begins. She brings her head back into her conversation, looks for an ashtray, and finds one near his "bottomless coffee cup" as the French waiter calls it. Pouring without asking, coming by without being called.