‘I guess I wasn’t the only one who was eager to get here,’ he said with his trademark grin on his face. ‘I thought I might hit traffic,’ I ...aid. ‘Yeah right, you just couldn’t wait to see your old pal, Roberto.’ ‘Okay maybe you are a little right. It has been way too long.’ ‘That’s for sure. Why haven’t you called?’ ‘I could ask you the same thing. If I remember our last conversation correctly, you told me to lose your number so that’s exactly what I did.’ ‘I was just angry. You should have. And he didn’t get it, what he did get was dingy counters and fly specked fluorescent lights, a salmon and turquoise color scheme straight out of 1956. Sam Erickson didn't care, they had coffee, he could smell it wafting above the rank odor of stale fryer grease and a general air of neglect and disuse. Then there was the requisite small town waitress, this one, no longer young, was the epitome of the victim-hood wrought by hard living. And although sitting on a counter stool until Sam’s entry. More

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