I work at a parking garage in the booth you pass by to pay on the way out. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Or at least, I hope you do.
Anyways, there are a ton of county workers that all have monthly passes and then there are the people who refuse to get a monthly but pay me everyday and they all go through and I’m recognizing faces.
Well, there’s this one woman who pays all the time and her and I talk about Dennis Lehane and murder mystery stuff whenever she’s passing through and there isn’t a long line of people behind her. We got to talking once because I was reading “Moonlight Mile” and her wife works in Seattle Mystery Bookshop and she’s met Dennis Lehane. It’s great. I’m jealous. Well. Today, she asked me why I wasn’t reading, if there wasn’t anything interesting I’d found, and I told her I couldn’t afford any new books (because I’m still waiting to get paid because I’m so poor right now). She asked what kind of mysteries I liked. I told her dark ones. She’s bringing me some books tomorrow.