umpets blared above guitars. It was a sunny day, a good day to be
outside. He started the car and drove away. When he reached the
intersection where he normally turned toward home, he steered right and
then impulsively left, veering back into the traffic going straight
ahead. Someone leaned on his horn and passed him, too close. The driver
turned his head. Arthur could see his mouth moving but couldn't hear
the words. Fucking something something something. It hadn't been that
dangerous. Amazing how people need to get angry, be righteous.

"Get a life," Arthur said. The man cut in front of him. A bumper
sticker declared: "My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Student." I could knock
him right off the road, Arthur thought. His mood brightened, and he
floored the gas pedal. "Don't mess with honor students," he said,
roaring past. He reached for the radio and found a Spanish music
station.

Gambling debts--what a laugh. He had been to two conventions in Vegas
and never gambled once. Give your money to a casino? Stupid. The flow
of traffic carried him to the edge of the city. He kept going and then
turned toward the mountains. The higher he drove, the better he felt.
He had lived entirely in California except for business trips and
visits to his father in Hawaii. His life spread out behind him, below
him, as he climbed toward Nevada. He stopped for gas, looked at the
stands of Douglas fir, and decided to spend the night in Tahoe.

He was pleased when he coasted into town. The lake was clear blue. The
streets were impersonal and commercial; he had credit cards; he knew
the rules. He signed for a room and strolled down the main street, his
small notebook and pen secure in his jacket pocket. The air was
sharper. Winter was coming, very different up here. He looked around
for a place to eat.

"Got any spare change?" The meaning of the words and the sound of the
voice were like light blows to opposite sides of his head. He turned,
disoriented. "Hey, Art," Penn said.

"Is that you, Penn?" Arthur struggled to reconcile the young man in his
mind with the man in front of him. Penn's hair was thinning. He needed
a shave.

"Indeed so. You are looking a bit crazed, Arthur. You need a drink to
acclimatize."

"I just got here." Penn seemed to know that. "I--maybe you're right.
Will you join me?"

"I could force down a single-malt."

"Lead the way. It's good to see you, Penn." They sat at the end of a
polished bar in one of the smaller cas