I took a break from sorting the still-warm-from-the-dryer clothes to help a lady move her just-bought mattress to her “just around the corner” house. Quickly, Ricky and I carted the mattress out of the store. Once outside, we picked the mattress up, walked it over to his stripped red truck, and put it onto the bed. Once we were both seated in the truck, he asked if he could smoke. I said sure and soon tobacco smoke filled the car, smooth as the Soul coming from the radio. At the house, the moving went fast. Upstairs to the right. Ricky walking forwards and me backwards. Going back he said, “Not too bad?” and I could only laugh. Not too bad at all.