By then I was imagining Sam as the Hollywood amalgam of a spy — dashing, dangerous, rugged yet refined, as effortless in a board meeting as in a bar fight.
On about the fourth time waking up, I thought I felt a poke on the heel of my foot, which is what woke me. I rolled over and looked around the room, but nothing was out of the ordinary.
In order to host the atmosphere of conciliation, deliberately looked at the roof, and even said how this evening, as if there is shrouded in the cycle of studio.
My, how time flies. Seems just like yesterday that I was a 12 year old kid, going for long bike rides in Sherwood Forrest, the subdivision just around the corner from where I lived.