“Hey, man!”

You glance about wildly to find the source of the voice before a tiny hand tugs on your leg. You look down. My goodness, this guy is small.

“My name’s Gerry,” he introduces himself without asking you to do the same. Rude. “Somebody, like, moved my whole house,” he tells you, sniffling. He wipes his drippy nose on his crusty sleeve. Yuck. “Just picked ‘er up and set her down who-knows-where. Have you seen her?”

You realize something smells a bit like stale bread and gym shorts. You subtly check your own armpits to see if it’s you. It isn’t. It’s definitely Gerry.