Then again, lots of my clients come here crying, or leave here crying. Her eyes were red and her nose was a little puffy. The smallish shape turned out to be a woman. So, I compromised and cranked out ten more crunches, rolled over, and pushed myself up to my feet.Īt the door, I verified that the smallish shape behind the pebbled glass wasn’t pointing a weapon at me and opened the door. So now every few days, I get email notification from Amazon saying that books like The Help and Tattooed Dragons have been purchased, although mostly it’s a steady stream of Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts novels. But I happen to enjoy eating, not to mention my girlfriend has an expensive Kindle habit which, for some reason, somehow got attached to my credit card. After all, looking like me takes a lot of work. I was tempted to ignore the knocking and finish the set. I was doing vertical leg crunches behind my desk when someone knocked on my office door. I flushed the toilet and sat on the seat and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to control my breathing. I felt sick and stumbled out of the small room and found the nearest bathroom and threw up my lunch and breakfast. From somewhere very far away, I heard the technician ask again if I was okay. “ I hope this helps,” said the technician.

An older man who was the son of the homicide detective who investigated my mother’s murder. An older man with three adorable kids who loved their grandfather.

An older man who clearly loved to surf and still lived in Huntington Beach. Except in the age-progression photograph, he wasn’t a kid anymore. The man on the screen before me was the eighteen-year-old kid from the pier, the kid who had taken an interest in my mother. It’s called age-progression technology, and it’s used to identify runaways and kidnap victims. His blond hair was turning a dirty blond, almost gray. His face was weathered from too many years in the sun and surf. I leaned a little closer, aware that my beating heart had increased in tempo, thudding dully in my skull. On the screen before me was the headshot of a white Caucasian male of about forty. Took a seat next to a flat-screen computer monitor that was turned away from me. You can thank the marvels of modern technology.” And then I would ask a certain someone to marry me.Ī door to my right opened and a bespectacled young man with no chin poked his head out.

That was fixable, and someday, when I had put my own mother’s murder to rest, I would put my drinking to rest, too. I was still drinking too much, but that was not insurmountable. Anyway, I thought he was going to miss his mummy. He even shed a tear, which may or may not have been legit. Yesterday, in a small desert town called Apple Valley, ol’ Boonie was finally put to rest amid much fanfare.

What does a hail mary football