It was a warm Friday afternoon in June and I’d just arrived home from work when my cell phone rang.
“Hello?” I said without looking at the caller ID as I tossed my keys on the wooden table I’d carved from an old tree trunk.
“It’s Serge, buddy. What’s up?”
“Hey, man! Are you coming home?” I asked as I went to the kitchen to grab a beer.
“I’ll be there tonight, maybe around eight. I can stay until Monday. Tell Rafe, would you? They just called my flight and I need more coffee. That croissant I had was gross. Why can’t people bake worth a damn? I’d give anything for a good croissant like back home. Love you, bro!”
“Why can’t you call Rafe and—?” But he’d already hung up.
Serge was a hit-and-run kind of guy. Always moving at super speed, very high energy. Half the time he wore me out wit
