And I was swinging my shoes, stumbling across the wal-mart parking lot, perhaps drunk, or maybe just tired.  It was 3, maybe four in the morning, and my car wouldn't start.  I had left it near the entrance, heading across the deserted pavement to the main road.

I paused, straining for a moment to zip up those stupid banana republic boots - four years old and still my favorite.  I looked up as the gravel spit, the maroon, two door pulling up next to me.  The window was open and I recognized him immediately - my heart lurched, my breathing stopped as I wondered if it is was real.

"You feel like spilling some lauren in aisle five?"

What could I say, but yes?