“I arrived to work on the wrong foot. I was jumpy and agitated, constantly watching the doors. A loud fart would have sent me skyrocketing into orbit.”

“I nodded in approval, turned around and opened the door, and stepped into the hall. I walked past the receptionist, smiling at her shocked face when she told me in a superficial voice to have a nice day, and I gave her a parting gift—my middle finger.”

“Multitask? What do I look like, a fucking secretary?” My temper flared before I could bite it back. Erica wasn’t the only one with a big mouth. I was constantly in danger of writing checks my ass couldn’t cash, the bearer of a lifelong disease of potty mouth that no amount of soap in this world could properly cleanse.”

“Don’t tell me,” I snickered. “You’re in a club that gathers together like raving Trekkies to share secrets of the afterlife. I bet you even have an Enigma CD you crank up to get in the mood.” “Don’t be silly.” His face lit up with an enormous grin. “We listen to Enya, not Enigma.”

“Listen,” I sighed and reached for my plastic bottle. “I want to get this sh!t over and done. Can we strive to obtain that goal? I have a meaningless existence, and I can’t put that kind of action on hold indefinitely”

“Come with me," he said quietly and extended his hand."Nuh-uh." I shook my head, scooting in the opposite direction . "I don't think so, All American Hero.”

“Stop a knife? You're serious.""As a heart attack.""You are something else."I couldn't tell if he was giving me a compliment or a veiled insult. "I try to be an individual. It's all the rage.”