the morning after a long evening in my nineteenth year...

“…So they found your cell phone in Washington Park last night.” My mother informed me.

“Oh great!” I said, even though I had just woken up in bed with two girls, and hadn’t really noticed it was missing yet.

“Yes, apparently it was in the pocket of your pants." She said, as though this was a completely normal thing to tell your son at 7 o’clock on a Saturday morning. "Next to your shoes, socks, underwear, shirt, hat, two dresses and three empty bottles of wine.”

“Oh.” I didn’t really know what to say at that point. “Okay, well. Thanks for letting me know. I guess I’ll go get my phone then.”