"Oh, I met the people with the tent," Travis mentions as we sit on his front stoop swatting at mosquitoes. It's silly--all the kids have retreated to my living room, but we're outside.
"Did you ask them about the tent?"
"No, didn't get that far. But seemed like nice people. They know Barb and Andrew, a few other people on their block. But what was weird was how we met."
He goes on to describe a sadly typical event. A car parked in the alley, as Travis approaches, the car speeds away down the alley and makes a U-turn on Grand. Look-out vehicle? Casing something to rob later?
"So anyway, they pulled up then behind you, in the truck, and we talked about the car. Didn't ask about the tent. But I told them about the block party. Maybe they'll come."
And maybe I'll ask them about the tent when I meet them...
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