Not a Girlfriend (Revised sligtly)
I adjust my baseball cap as I step into the Buffalo Lounge, a bar and restaurant in Ellwood, the town where I grew up. The cap is blue with the red letters “R.C.” stitched upon it, but it may just as well bear a giant red “C” for confidence. It fits fine on my head. A man I knew only as a boy comes up to me and shakes my hand. “Congratulations, Steve! I read in the paper your Little League team won the state again!” “Thank you. You’ve lost a little hair, Aaron, but you’re looking great... Sign in to see full entry.