Where Everyone Knows Your Name

Saturday Krista and I went dancing at the club to drown our sorrows and console our lonely hearts.  “Ms. L? Ms. S?” we heard in the dim, thumping pit that serves as the dance floor.  “Who is it?  It’s too dark,” I whispered to Krista.  “I don’t know!” she hissed back.  Retreating outside we were corralled by two small boys.  “Is this your ma?” one of them asked Krista.

Aaaaamaaaan.  Not my best night.