when i woke up in the morning and finished rubbing the sleep out of mine eyes, i found a pack of cigarettes and a wad of clear tape on my desk. there was one lone un lit un smoked cig sitting out all by itself next to the pack, and it pointed in the general direction of my door as if to say yeah! its that one! pick that one! i picked up the empty pack to throw it away and, on the way to the trash can, i noticed that the wad of tape wasnt a wad of tape at all. it was a condom; unused, but sans wrapper, which was in the trash can. and as the pack of cigs joined it, a curious sensation ran through my brain.

clues, these are. sure of it, i am. and when i got out of the shower, so fresh and so clean clean, i went on a search to find out where the rest were.

they were all over the house, in the kitchen, bathroom, on the tv, on the porch, in the car.

a cookie

a corona

a piece of paper with the name sharona.

a dirty sock

a dirty mop

broken glass, a pink note from a cop.

and ever so slowly, piece by piece, i put together the thoughts and memories that were the night previous.

paris was out of town with her family, so it was me and the boys and a couple of cardboard boxes full of mexican beer.

and then it was to the top of the world, the rooftop barestaurant and trendy classy frat boy hangout. the white folks were searching out some of their own kind, since in our group they were the minority, and everyone knows white folks get scared when theyre the minority.

turned out sharona is really this chick, and for a good part of the night there was laughter and lol's all over the place while we relived that night that sucked so much for her and not so much for me and the boys. she was taller than i remembered; skinny, but with just enough curves in just the right places to be a supermodel.

she said do you remember me? we got in trouble with the cops that one night.

i said youll have to be more specific. that happens to me alot.

she smiled.

you wanna see the ticket? she said.

you wanna watch chappelle's show season 2 on dvd with a third disc of bonus features? i said.

she sat on the end of the couch and flipped through the episode guide, looking for the one with the racial draft. i sat in the middel, drinking water and reading a pink piece of carbon copy paper and saying dayum, glad im not you.

and when she left in the morning, she left the ticket on the coffee table, right next to the napkin with her name on it.

turns out her number was on it too.

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