ABSTRACT
I'm out near the pool holding a handful of ratchet sockets, watching Spike change the plugs and filters on the used LTD he has bought from a welder this morning, when Danny, this guy we don’t know too well, comes sauntering out of his apartment carrying a six-pack of bottled beer. We’ve seen Danny in the pool back when it was warmer, and we know that he laughs a lot and drives an eighteenwheeler. He usually parks it over by the fence and it takes up a lot of space, but it’s not there today. I’ve bummed a smoke from him once or twice and he’s bummed one from me.
