Waking Up

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, took my shoes off, and put on my dress, which was tailored in the shape of a skull for the occasion. I brought my hair out, and went out into the street.

I showed off my thick, black, thick hair, and the two ends were a little clipped to my ears. I went out and bought a hat, which I carried under my arm as it lay on my head. I went out to the street and fell down upon my knees. A passer-by came out, and said to me, "Come on, boy, you've got a long way to go."

I looked back at him, and saw him carrying a cigar, which was wrapped in a cloth, and was smoking out the end of a cigar. The cigar had a nice wrapper, and the cord was thick as a spider's web. It was remarkable how well the cigar was smokeless, and that the tobacco was full of smoke.

"Well, kid, I've got a cigar," said I, "and I've got a cigar-poker. What do you think you'll do with it?"

"I don't know," he said, "but I'll play it."

"You'll play it," I said. "I'll play it like your father," said he, "and I'll play it like your father."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, and walked all over my apartment. I spent my morning eating breakfast, reading, and talking with my friends.

My morning routine is heavy on guilt. I think about myself every morning, and I think about how I could have done things differently. I write about myself every day, and I write about how I could have done better.

I was thinking about my sister and how she spent her mornings. She had been in her bedroom for hours, reading one of her favorite books, and she would pick up her book, stand in front of the mirror, and stare at her reflection. She looked at it every morning, with her eyes filled with tears. It was a very lonely day for me.

I went to the library, and I read for hours. I read every chapter aloud, but I could not get past the first sentence. I had always tried to write it down. I would write it down, and then I would read it again and again.

One day, I read aloud a chapter from The Dharma Bringer—an autobiography by one of the great intellectuals of the twentieth century—and I seemed to remember exactly where it was. It was in the middle of my first library book. After I finished reading, I suddenly realized that it had been sitting there for a very long time. It was a long time ago, but its words were still in my head.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, put on my coat, and went to the office. I get up at three o'clock, and I have a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I get my apartment ready, and I go out in the morning.

When I walk into the office, I see a man sitting with his back against the wall and a bottle of wine. I look up and see him drinking his wine. He is wearing jeans, a baseball cap, and a solid black jacket. He walks toward me.

"You know that they're all mine," he says. "I'm going to have a drink with you."

"What'll you do with it?" I ask.

"I'll just take it and leave it with you," he says. "I don't like it that much."

"I don't have a problem with it," I say. "I'm an old man, you know. I've got a lot of years ahead of me. But I'm not going to sit on a lot of old money."

"I don't see why you should," he says. "I had the same wine before."

"You have all the old money, and you're still drinking?"

"Yes," he says. "I've got it in the bank. I know how to handle it. But I don't like the fact that I've got to keep it here."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, grabbed my camera and headed out to the local Target for some shopping. It was a very crowded store. There were three or four men in front of me, sitting on the benches, looking at the camera. One of them had a baseball cap on, and his eyes were glued to the camera. He was trying to define my approach. I looked at him and said, "This is a professional orientation." I don't know if I was serious.

"I'm here to do some marketing work," he said. "I'm going to be an assistant manager here in the Hall of Fame. I'm taking a look at the way it works there, and then I'll figure out how to take it further."

"I'm here to try and make an offer to another player," I said. "Can you give me a call?"

"Sure," he said. "I'll see you at the ballpark one of these days."

"I'll see you then," I said. "I'm going to be a realist, you know that."

He was interested. And so was I.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, took a shower, and watched an old movie. I read a book. Sometimes the movie was funny, and sometimes it wasn't. Today, it was a slow-motion movie of a female leaning against a wall with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, eyes closed. Her head was tilted back, her mouth was open, her nose was up, and she was holding a cigarette.

I read again, this time in my sister's name. She was sitting on her bed, rocking back and forth in a typical rocking motion. Her eyes were closed, her tongue was out, and she was looking at me with a look that said, "I won't burn this bastard alive. Not now. Not ever."

"I'm glad you're here," I said. "You know, I was hoping I could be a little more accepting of yourself."

"You don't know that, do you?" she asked scornfully. "I'm always looking for ways to see what I can use to make my life as miserable as possible. You've got a pretty happy life, by the way, don't you? You're not it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "I'm not happy. It's just that I have to make it."

"And you're better off than I am, then?" she asked. "You have to be a little more sensible, do you think?"

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, packed my bike, then loaded it with the stuff that I had in my own garage. I got it ready for the morning commute, didn't take a shower, and slept through the early afternoon.

I'm a gym rat and a lifter. I claim to be one of the most experienced lifters out there, but I know that there's no guarantee that I'm going to perform at a high level any day of the week. I always try to be a forward thinker, but it's one thing to be a slightly conservative guy, and it's another to be a good one.

I'm a small guy, six foot four, with a 360-pound deficit over my opponent. I'm the type of guy who would think twice about going for a big lift or a slightly bigger rep in the gym until I was sure I could get a bigger jump off. I think I could probably handle a little more weight than I used to.

I don't think I've ever done a weird leg workout on a bike. I put my feet up on the handlebars as soon as I get off the bike. I work hard, but I don't want to give myself a headache. I'll be up on my knees, point my toes, and try to smoke a cigarette.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, got dressed, and limped down to the parking lot of the UC Davis Health and Wellness Center. I had a long walk with my wife to get to my office, then went home to shower and get ready. It was nice to be back in my own chair, but I had been out for a week and my mind was still filled with the morning's events.

I sat down with my wife and began my morning by writing a quick newsletter. Then the call came. It read:

"Hello, David!"

"David, I'm writing to congratulate you on your wedding."

"Good job! To tell the truth, I've been thinking about it for a year. I just finished a series of research papers that were a bit longer than I anticipated and that were to be presented at a conference in the fall. I was just thinking that I might want to do some one-on-one time with you, in which I'd like to discuss your preparation for a conference in the fall. I think it would be interesting to ask you about your beliefs and your views on them, and I certainly hope that you will listen to what I have to say."

"Hmm, I can see how this would be a good opportunity to get to know you a little better. I've always been somewhat curious about what you think about things, and I'm sure you have some ideas about what you think about the future."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, put on my sneakers, and went to work. It was a grueling, two-hour drive to the place that I had been working. It was a decent piece of work, but it was not the sort of thing that I did for money, and the solid, steady paycheck that I had been earning had not kept pace with my rising standards.

I had been working for the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago for the past year or two. I had worked there for two years in a position that gave me a starting salary of $80,000. I had been trying to get into a regular job, but it was hard to get into. I was paid by the hour, and I got my own room. Therefore, I had no time for sleep, and I got up at six in the morning every morning and worked until seven.

The money that I did have was spent on all kinds of things. I had bought two guitars, a pair of microphones, and some records.

I had been working for the Bank of Chicago for the past year or two, and I had been trying to get into a regular job, but it was hard to get into.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, made myself comfortable, and I started reading the paper.

The first few pages were about the war in Afghanistan. The country was going through a major change when a couple of my friends were killed, and one of them had been one of my peers.

I was reading that the Taliban were becoming a major threat to Kabul. That was followed by an article about a local man who had been kidnapped and brought to the border. The Taliban had killed him when he tried to escape.

I'd come out of bed early, but I didn't think I'd have much time left before the sun rose. I started reading the latest issue of the magazine, "Business Weekly." It was a magazine for businessmen. I was pleased that my friends had come out of the hotel and had stayed in my room. I was also pleased that they had bought a house.

I read the article again. I liked the narrative, the way it talked about the Taliban. I was sure it would be a good subject for a story.

The next story was about a young woman whom I'd met at a party. She was in her late twenties. She was a happy woman, with a bright future ahead of her. She was a very ambitious woman. She had a husband and a daughter, and she had been married to a man of much higher standing.

She was a very attractive woman.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, got dressed, and spent the rest of the day on my computer, doing research, writing articles, and doing my job.

I was looking at some blog posts and saw something about this guy, and I just had to find out more.

It was a man named Robert, who was a global business executive, and he was an enthusiastic believer in the idea that, if you're going to make money, you should make it in the most efficient way. He was buying and selling stocks on Wall Street, and he was very successful. He had a lot of money, but he was also working very hard, and it was like a million bucks. He got up at four in the morning, went to a restaurant and had a tremendous breakfast with his wife, who was his secretary, and he went straight to work at five o'clock in the morning.

I thought that we should hire him as our world expert on finance. I thought that he would make us a lot of money.

He didn't do it, but he did get us a lot of money—some $100 million.

I was pretty surprised by it at first.

That was in March of 1981.

That was during the worst of the financial crisis, right?

It was.

And we were still making money.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, ate a burger, and went to work.

I am not accustomed to working from home, and I have no desire to do it again. I like to be at my desk at home, but the three good books I have on the shelf should serve the purpose of keeping me occupied. But I love to get up at five, as if I were going to settle down for the day.

Well, I do not exactly know where I want to start. What sort of work can I do, and how are I going to get it done? I can hardly think of any existing task I would accept. I have never been in the habit of thinking of my own profession with the same attention to which I pay myself. The idea of my own career is a new one to me, but I am determined to keep my thoughts in order. I do not think of myself as a professional, but I know that if I had a clearer idea of my own abilities, I should be able to solve any problem I may be asked to solve.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, dressed, and went to the bathroom. I had a glass of water and a few bananas. Then I was ready to go. I was going to work towards my next job, which would be with the Internal Revenue Service. This morning, I went to the gym, and then I was off. I was not expecting to go to work until 2 p.m. I was heading for my office at the IRS. I walked into my office and went to my desk. I looked up to see that the sun was rising, and I was thinking it was a good time to get up. Suddenly, I saw a woman walking down the hall, and she seemed to be working out. She was carrying a big bag of groceries with her. She said, "Hey, Mr. Patterson, why don't you come over here, I have some groceries to take to the bank?" I said, "Sure," and we walked over. She had pulled up her skirt, and she had her coat over her head. I noticed that it was a pretty short coat, with a blue collar. I noticed that she was wearing bra panties, the same ones that she had been wearing when she went to work for the IRS.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, dressed in my everyday clothes, took off my shoes, and went to work. Then I got up and left. I'm a little different. I like to lie in bed and have a job to do. I have a couple of workmates, and I have a wife and three children.

I went to work at the Dollar General in North Little Rock. I was a Good Morning America correspondent. I worked my way through the store, teaching my children how to read and write.

I remember ... when I first came here, I was in the back, working on my class report. I had to go out to the front, which was a very busy part of the store. So I went around to the front. Then I got to the front and I saw a woman shopping. She was a tall, slender woman, with a very beautiful face--and when she got into her clothes, she didn't look quite right. I walked into the store down on the street, and I was walking down the street with her when I saw a young man standing in front of me, dressed in a blouse and trousers. He was holding a pencil, and he was scribbling something down.

"You're looking in the wrong place," said he. "I've got the wrong pencil."

"Just look at me," said I. "I'm too tall to be a pencil writer."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, went to the bathroom, took off my shirt, washed my face, and stood in front of a mirror for a few minutes. Then I went downstairs to get dressed and came home, walked into the bedroom, and opened my dresser. I'd been thinking about it for awhile. I had a nice dark blue dress with a white trim, and a dark blue cardigan. Every night, I'd wear it to bed with a pair of black shoes, and every morning I'd wear them with a pair of white slippers. I had a nice pair of scissors, and a very nice pair of tweezers, and a pair of pliers. The point is, I wasn't thinking about it very much. I was thinking of the clothes. I was thinking about my dress, and my shoes, and my scissors, and my pliers, and my tweezers, and my scissors. And that was in the morning.

Then I sat down on the bed, sat there for the whole day, and had for three days. That was all I wanted to do.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, dressed, and drove to the office. I usually work from home because it's easier than driving to work. But I'm lucky enough to have a car. And I've always liked cars. So, I picked up my car and drove to the office.

I was in my office, sitting in the chair that I always sit in, when I heard a knock on the door. It was a young woman who was probably in her mid-twenties. She asked me to come in, and I told her that I was looking for Dr. Foster.

'Come in, Mr. Foster!' she said.

'I'm Dr. Foster,' I said.

'You are a patient, Mr. Foster,' she said.

'Yes, I am,' I said. 'I've just come from a meeting with Dr. Foster. I'm taking my own lunch.' She looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I would be interested in joining him in his office.

'Yes, Mr. Foster,' I said. 'It's a pleasure to meet you.'

'I'm glad to see you, Dr. Foster,' she said. 'You could come in for a few minutes.'

'No, I'm all right,' I said. 'I'm always glad to see you.'

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, rolled on my little cabbage blanket, and began to write.

I was a little nervous, so I took a few deep breaths, and then picked up the pen and began writing.

The first paragraph was the simple, familiar "We are all mortal."

The second paragraph was "The sooner we begin to look for a way to beat death, the better."

The third paragraph was "A man does not die for nothing, nor for any other reason, but for his own purpose."

The fourth paragraph, "I need not ask how it comes about that I am here to write," was very much like the fourth line of the last paragraph, "The sooner we begin to look for a way to beat death, the better."

The fifth paragraph was a little curious, and I don't know how I got it.

I think it was about a month after I finished these, that I was able to write up the fourth paragraph and the sixth paragraph, which were more or less the same.

My incipient theory was that I was sort of a mathematician, and had a certain sort of knack for writing that drew on my own experiences. I suppose I had read some of the works of the old mathematicians, but my work was mostly my own. I had been a regular student of mathematics, and I had devoted the bulk of my life to studying it, in every branch, in every field of inquiry.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, I got dressed, I got to work the next day. Then I went to school for a few hours, then I went to bed and woke up at 6 am and woke up again at 6.30 am, and I got up again at 7.30 am and got up again at 9.30 am. I don't think I ever really sought what I was doing. I just did it. I think it was just something I did all day long. I really have no idea what it is that I am doing.

I set up a chair in my study, which I read about in the newspaper, and I sit in it all day. I read the papers, and I think about the next step. Then I go to my desk and I do the same thing, and I do the same thing, and then I go to my room and I listen to music, and I get up early to go out and smoke a cigar, and I go to my room and I get up early to go to work, and I get up at 8 or 9 and I get up at 4, and I then go to my room, and I go to bed very early, and it's almost dark. I don't think I ever ever went to bed until 6 or 7. I think it was the same when I was a boy, and I think it will be the same now.

I never do sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, took off my shirt, and laid myself down on my bed. I was very tired, but I wasn't in any hurry to go to work. I was just as hungry as any other morning. I took my breakfast as soon as it was put on the table.

"Good morning, fellow," said I. "Get up and get ready for an early breakfast, for it is very hot today. Will you please make your coffee?"

"Yes, sir," said he.

"Now, sir, you will feel comfortable to stand up and make yourself comfortable, and you will be sure that you will be able to do so at your convenience."

"Yes, sir," I answered. "I am ready to go to work."

He laughed.

"You are not going to make the coffee?" he said.

"I don't intend to drink coffee," I answered. "I will make my breakfast. Don't be afraid to give me a chance to change my clothes."

"I am sure I will not leave a trace of myself," he answered. "I will be your servant."

"And you will be my friend?"

"Yes, sir, sir," I replied. "I shall be your servant."

"You will be my friend?" he asked.

"I think so, sir," I answered. "I shall be your servant."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, took my scooter to my front yard, and drove to the store. What a great way to start the day, I thought. I drove to the store, grabbed my glasses, and walked to my office.

I have always had a fascination with the work that goes on behind closed doors. I tried to start my day with a slice of bread, a coffee, and a bag of peanut butter. In my routine, I followed some cycles of action, but my main focus was to get myself out of bed. I would run my scooter up and down my driveway, setting off alarms as I went. I would walk back and forth from the office, studying schedules and reviews, trying to decide just how much work I would have to do.

For a few days I had the routine going. I got myself up at 5:30 A.M. and drove to work. I didn't think much of it at first. I worked on a number of projects during my lunch hour, but I had no idea what I was doing. I joined in the morning classes every morning. Then, at 6:30, I took a walk on my front lawn to have a look at my yard. My wife and I watched the sun come up, and I could see it clearly.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, walked into my office and pounded on the computer until I was halfway done. Then I looked at the schedule and realized that I had to get into work as early as I could.

I work eight hours a day. I get up at seven, go to work at eight, and spend my afternoon spinning a yarn. Then, I usually finish a few hours before bed.

It is a completely different routine. My wife and I used to work two to four hours a day. I started when I was seventeen and stayed until I was thirty-six. Since then I have been working four or five hours every night.

By then I had become a man of education. I had studied economics, history, philosophy, and the classics. I had been a graduate student at Harvard, a professor at Columbia, and a lecturer at Georgetown. In the last three years I have taught courses in economics, history, philosophy, and the classics at Columbia, Princeton, and Harvard.

I am not a man of ideas. I am not an idealist. I am not an optimist. I do not believe that my country must ever again be at war with Japan. I believe that our government must never again allow any foreign power to dominate any part of our territory. I believe that our country is destined to survive the war and to prosper.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, got dressed, and started my day. I don't have a routine, but I try to make it as efficient as I can. I've walked down the street every morning, and I've taken the subway every morning. I've even gone from one subway to the other, sometimes taking the subway at the same time that I'm walking. I've gone from one subway to another, sometimes taking a subway at the same time as I'm walking. I've gone from one subway to another, sometimes taking a subway at the same time as I'm walking. I've gone from one subway to another, sometimes taking a subway at the same time as I'm walking. And now, I'm going to walk. I don't have a routine.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, shook my head, and sat down at my computer.

I would have had a more useful morning if I had gone to bed earlier. But I had just finished watching a movie when I felt a knock at the door. I opened it, and in walked a vision of a young boy on a track in the forest with his parents. He was dressed in dark clothes and was carrying a stick in his right hand. It had a red ribbon on it and was draped over the shoulder.

"You are called Kurt. You can talk to me," he said.

I listened as he told me about his parents, his early life, and his family's history. I had never listened to a boy talk about his parents. My ears were ringing with the exclamations of amazement and regret that haunted his mother. And yet I found myself wondering if he had ever been lonely.

"More than a mile away," he said, "there is a place where you can stay. You may want to come there one more time."

"Yes, you may," I replied. "I'll be glad to come and spend some time with you. I really need it."

"If you need it," he said. "You're a very good boy. Your mother has always been very kind to you. You may find that you will find your own way."

"You're an odd one," I said.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, scrambled to the toilet, and went to bed. Then I went to work and got ready for my day. I got up at 6:30 a.m. and went to work. The next morning, I was up at 6:30 a.m., got ready for work, and got up at 6:30 a.m. again. Then I went to bed at 9:30 a.m.

I went back from work at 9 a.m., had breakfast, and went to bed.

SIR, in all the years that I have been a lawyer, and I believe that I have done all that I can in my way of living, I have never seen the day when, in my life, I have sat down to breakfast with my wife, and never sat down to dinner with her. In all my years in law and in politics, I have never had that kind of arrangement. I cannot understand how I could ever have had that kind of arrangement with my wife.

Now, if I could get a firm grip on the whole problem, one result would be that I would have a better understanding of the psychology of human beings. If I could have the benefit of seeing this personality change as it happened over time, I would see the influence of the law upon it. The law would be of no assistance to the man who is in danger of being convicted of murder.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, took a shower, slept for an hour, ate breakfast, and then went back to work.

When I was young, my parents would often take me out for coffee in a neighborhood cafe in St. Louis. The place was called "The Golden Apple," and it had a huge sign outside it that said, "Best Coffee, No Politics." The coffee came in a sturdy cup and was served by a tall, slender man who wore a suit jacket with a red tie. He had a broad face and a broad forehead. There was a generous mustache on his chin, and there was a hairline to his chin.

"He's a nice man," I told him.

"He wants to be a president," he said. "I've heard that he's got the kind of politics that I like."

"He's a good businessman," I said. "I've got a friend who's a good friend of mine."

"Well, he isn't that kind of politician," he said. "I've never heard that he's anything but a man of business. He's got a very big bank, but he never uses it without a skimming fee on the interest. He's got a big gold watch, and he's got a fat watch of his own. He's got a suit, too, and he has the kind of clothes that you would wear to a party."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, and I walked to the kitchen, where I made myself a coffee, and I ate a sandwich. Then I walked out to the street and saw buildings and cars. I walked up to the front of the house, and I saw the house. I could see my wife and his father sitting in the window, and his father seemed to be a bit of a politician.

"I went into this house first," he said, "and I started to get the idea that I was going to keep on writing. I took a seat on my bed and began writing down what I saw and heard in my own mind all the time. And as I saw it, I saw it in a way that made it feel real. It was like we were all looking out at the street, as if we were all running through the city. And I began to see that if I were to write something on a street corner, it would be a matter of a few minutes' walk from here to there - a single page, maybe - and then a mile or so to the next place."

"And then I saw that it was going to be a matter of days before I would get to the end of this book. I started writing this book about five minutes before I got home from work."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, drove my car to the parking lot, and walked around the block to the diner. I went to the Taco Bell because, in my family's eyes, it was the only place you could get a good breakfast while you were out and about. My mother and my sister didn't want to go, but I was willing to let them have the best of it.

In the middle of my drive, I looked over the parking lot and noticed that my white Toyota Sienna was parked in front of the diner. I drove away, lost in a sort of trance. It had been my first Taco Bell experience, and there was almost nothing in it that I hadn't eaten before.

It was just another day in my life.

I had forgotten that I was pregnant.

I had forgotten that the baby was mine.

I had forgotten about sex.

All of it was gone.

Over the years, I had put aside all the other things that were bothering me. I had allowed myself to sink into my bed and dream of my baby, my wife, my daughter and my friends. The only thing that kept me awake at night was the thought that I would never see my daughter again.

I had become so used to my thoughts of my own mortality that I had become infatuated with the idea of dying alone. Every night I dreamed about it.

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, got dressed and went to the kitchen to make a breakfast. I made a small cup of coffee, and then took a long walk to my car. I had a few more minutes to spare before I felt ready to leave, so I made my way to the car, pulled into the parking lot and pulled up my car seat.

I opened it and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. I opened it and poured it into my mouth. It was a beautiful, dark grey that was so full of flavor and so smooth. I drank it quickly and downed it in two or three gulps. I was already drunk, but I wasn't done. I took a deep swallow of the whiskey and then looked behind me. There was a large man lying on the ground, his face bloodied. He had a single tooth still protruding from his gum bud. He looked like he was practically dead.

"I remember that day," I said, "when the whole town looked like a funeral procession. They were all out in the streets, carrying coffins out of the church, and I had a seat with my back to the mob."

"I never saw you with any of them," said the man. "I saw you one time, for God's sake, in the town square. The whole town was turning out the funeral director."

Let me tell you about my morning routine. This morning, I jumped out of bed, walked to the front door, and walked out.

I walked to my car from my bedroom and drove to my car again. I opened the door and walked out.

"Morning, buddy," I said as I drove away.

I was probably the only guy in the entire neighborhood who looked like me. I had a tight black suit that hung down over my shoulders, a cut-off black shirt pulled over my belly, black socks, and black jeans with a black stripe on the front. I was wearing a gray sweatshirt with a red stitched on the front, my gray combat boots and red leather belt, and I had a black belt over my right shoulder, and I was carrying a black pistol tucked under my arm.

I walked into my office and sat down on the desk. I was wearing a leather jacket and purple pants. I had a black belt on my right side, and I had two pairs of white military boots. I had a black leather wallet stuffed with $1 bills and a black binder. When I sat down, I stared out at the city, the clouds, a few stars, and the moon.

"You can't hang out with the boys, you know," I said. "They're waiting for you to come home."

"You're right," said the guy in the suit. "I know."