And I was swinging my shoes, stumbling across the wal-mart
parking lot, perhaps drunk, or maybe just tired. It was 3, maybe four in
the morning, and my car wouldn't start. I had left it near the entrance,
heading across the deserted pavement to the main road.
paused, straining for a moment to zip up those stupid banana republic boots -
four years old and still my favorite. I looked up as the gravel spit,
the maroon, two door pulling up next to me. The window was open and I
recognized him immediately - my heart lurched, my breathing stopped as I
wondered if it is was real.
"You feel like spilling some
lauren in aisle five?"
What could I say, but yes?