Waiting for my Whopper I heard, "Excuse me. Have we met?" I turned to look. Twenty years faded away. "You were hitchhiking. To Nyack." "You gave me a ride in your Mick Truck." "You mean Mack, but it was a Peterbilt." "You were very kind." "You weren't. You nicked the bills stashed in the console." She blushed. "I'm sorry. I was young, desperate, and stupid. I can repay you." She seemed sincere, but who knows? I spent twenty years in Rikers for that truck theft. She looked well off. I smiled. "Water under the bridge. Want to share a table?"

This has nothing to do with dragons, or any of my books. It was an entry in a 100 word story contest by a very cool literary agent. The story had to include five male names the agent provided. (Can you find them? Riker isn't one of them.) I didn't win, but I got an attaboy. I'll take it!