I turned with a start and saw a guy I used to work with as a security guard. “Remember me?” He still had his jagged teeth that made him look like he chews rocks but he had gotten so thin since the last time I had seen him. When I worked with him, he was fresh out of the army and had been a little buff from being a mortar and he lifted weights right there at the guard shack. Strategically, I covered a certain part of the floor with my foot as I got my phone off my belt to silence it. It looked like a sales call anyway and I made small talk with dude who’s name I still don’t remember.
We concluded the banter and reverie and it became safe for me to get back to what I was doing. I moved like a ninja and in a flash it was safe in my front pocket. I looked both ways and determined I was not seen procuring my booty. I collected the hash and paid for my stuff at the automotive counter, because I always park there so I can get in and out quickly. In the protected cocoon of my van I pulled the bill out to inspect it. I was the proud owner of about sixty percent of the bill. The rest had been torn off and there was just enough to fold over at the middle making it look and feel whole. “Oh, for the sake of Pete’s dragon!” I didn’t say that in my head. If I would have been standing rather than sitting in my vehicle, I may have jumped up and down like a cartoon. What a bummer. Still fuming, I flipped it over and saw the writing. With a Sharpie, someone had written “Want the rest? Text!” and then a number.