Annie asked me over for dinner this evening, just the two of us. I wonder if she knows I write about her in my journal.
When I came home from Annie’s this evening, Mike was sitting on the front porch drinking a cup of hot chocolate.
“It’s a little muggy for hot chocolate, isn’t it?” I asked. I stretched out in a lawn chair, sliding in between the dogs who did not want to move. I snuggled up with them and scratched their ears.
“Tastes good,” he said.
“How’d you get into the house?”
“Floyd has a key in the garage.”
Mike did not want to go home. He had an argument with his father, so I let him sleep in the second guest room. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened, so I left it at that.
I asked if he would like to play a joke on several people at the same time. He agreed to bring all hi
