Greg Logsted

“Today, I'm the real me." She lifts her chin toward the large white beer tent. "How about a couple of beers?""Do you have an ID?"She laughs and pulls me toward the tent. "Honey, I've got a pocket full of them.”

“I'm thinking about coffee and dessert when my phone rings. I don't recognize the number."Hello?""Bishop!" It's Coach Chase. I almost forgot that I gave him my number. I don't want my dad to know who's on the phone. That would raise all kinds of questions requiring evasive answers."Hey... buddy... um, how's it going?”

“When we get to the door I reach for the doorbell but Carlos steps in front of me, grins and then starts banging on the front door with all of his might. The door shakes and his pounding thunders throughout the house. (...) We must be the world's loudest burglars.I shout, "Why are you pounding so hard?"His grin gets even larger. "If anyone's home, they'll definitely answer that knock. If nobody's home what difference does it make?”

“I start walking toward my bike with renewed purpose."I don't think I need any help to knock on a door."Carlos yells, "Be careful, my friend. The problem with knocking on doors is you're never quite sure who's going to be on the other side.”

“What... what are you doing here?"He's shaking his head as he walks my way; a steaming coffee mug is in his hand."What am I doing here? I live here.""Y-you do? How did I get here?"He starts to laugh. "You don't remember?""No... I really don't."He places the mug in front of me. "You called me on your cell. I found you spaced out of your mind in an alley behind the bar. You were talking to a cat. You claimed it was your mother.”

“I can see her weighing her response, concentrating like a cliff diver studying the ebb and flow of the tide."Um, well... could you at least give me an idea?""Two weeks give or take a week or two.”