But, they agreed that the two of them needed to go to his house so the first could be a creep. The first one wrote a piece of fan mail, and looked him up on the internet and wrote down directions from the sale. It was a 15 minute drive and the sun was falling out of the sky as we came into a clearly well off residential area full of big yards and stone paths. The middle aged white families were out walking their dogs as we pulled up to the house in our poster truck. "Is this it?" we said. "This is it," we said.
Half of us had butterflies. That's the half that grabbed the fan mail, stepped out onto the brick path and under the lattice archway to the front door--heart pounding.
That half rang the doorbell. And waited.
No sound came from the residence, and eventually that half dropped the note between the screen and main door, and shakily returned to the truck. "Wasn't there?"
We shook our head. When we got back out on the highway that half smiled so his face nearly lopped its self in half. I can't believe it.
We laughed.
