I had smelled it after I took it out of the wrapper. No one thought anything of it; I smell all my smokes before I light them. The wine scented rolling paper really did it for me, made me want to lick it and taste the flavoring. Gently taking the wooden tip between my middle and forefinger, I ran my thumb along the flint-strip of the box of matches in my pocket; this cigar was far too nice for a lighter. I watched as the fire flickered to life between my fingertips, the sulfur smell of the match wafting into my nostrils. I gently coaxed the sweet smoke out of the filter, my lips tingling slightly with the sensation of it gliding through them. The smoke was smooth, rolling down my throat like a sip of water, before flowing from between my lips to cloud just above me, hovering there for a moment to say goodbye before it floats away. The wine flavor stayed in my mouth for just a moment before it too faded, leaving the burning red tip of the cigar to send the smell of it through the air. That is what peace smells like.