“I’m sorry. I guess…I guess I lost it.”
Yes, I was messing up again.
“Pete, I swear, you and numbers! It’s as if you have some psychological block against them.”
Catherine looked like she was about to flare up at me. Then she seemed to shift perspectives.
“Well, who needs to memorize numbers when you can write them down?” She opened her notebook and tore off a sheet of paper, handed it to me, and reached into her purse.
“Ink pin?” she said.
“Ink what?
“Pin.”
“What am I going to do with a pin?”
Then I realized what she meant. It had been a long time since I had been around Southern Illinois accents.
“No, thanks.” I reached for my mechanical pencil.
When I looked up again after writing down her number, Catherine was smiling at me. She looked so young. I shuddered and walke
