Just now when I was at Smith's Marketplace, I saw a guy sitting in front of the store who looked a LOT like my brother Jimmy. In fact, I had to do a double-take, because the last time I checked, Jimmy was eating Cuban food at that place next door to the Precious Slut Tattoo Parlor (and no--I am not making up that name) in Las Vegas.
Anyhoo. I started playing the "What If" game. What if that really WERE my brother Jimmy? And what if this was the first time I'd seen him since we were teenagers? Because what if he'd been kidnapped when we were kids? What if he'd been kidnapped when I was supposed to be watching him but instead I was talking to my friend Gigi Ballif on the telephone? CAN YOU IMAGINE THE GUILT? How would I feel seeing him sitting there in front of Smith's Marketplace?
That could be the start of a novel, right? A novel written by Dean Koontz, probably. Or maybe me. Or maybe you.
Playing the "What If" game every day may pay off eventually. And even if it doesn't, at least it makes going to Smith's Marketplace more interesting than usual.