Rock awoke to the sound of police sirens. He could hear them from all over Little Rock. As he walked up a spiral staircase from a basement guest room, he passed his host, a pretty brunette he knew from runs with the Little Rock Hash House Harriers. Rock handed her a lampshade he had apparently dislodged the night before. She laughed with a measured hint of condescension, understandable when he reached her vestibule to find a dog in its attempt to grind marijuana from Rock's tiny backpack into tightly-woven carpet. Rock began to sweep it with his hand into the pack. As he did, he looked up to see two police cars pull into the driveway. He turned back to apologize to his host, but she was out of sight.
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