She walks into the all-night roadhouse on her way home from a friend's place. It was just a quiet get together; a few drinks, some conversation, and instead of catching a cab home she decides to walk along the foreshore so she can pick up some cigarettes and take in the sweet cool air of the night. She thinks about the irony of that; nicotine and nature, were they ever meant for each other. She sees him at the counter and straight away notices his incandescent smile, wondering how working a night shift can leave him emitting that kind of glow. He greets her with that smile as she approaches and looks at her with eyes that ask simply, "what can I do for you?"

"A pack of twenty Dunhill blue thanks... errr... and a match of boxes"

He smiles at her a little brighter now.

"Don't mind me," she says. "I'm not dyslexic; just being silly, which I am lot - it‘s kind of like a spoonerism"

"Oh, I thought you were just getting your murds wuddled," he teases her back.

She takes her purse from her bag, removes a fifty and then places the purse on the counter to finger through a box of chocolate frogs near the register. His warm energy continues to envelop her.

"There you go, a pack of twenty, and... the matches. Not taking any frogs with ya?"

"Nah," she says. "I'll give them a miss tonight." She gets an impulsive urge to flirt with him so as she walks away she says, "don't lose that smile hey."

"Sure," he calls out to her, holding something in his hand. "And you better not lose your purse."