“Here, this is the one I want.”

“So, is this it?

“Yes.”

“Do you have your ID?”

“Here it is.”

“What is this? I’m sorry, that’s not it. Looks like the wrong one.”

“No, look. Turn it over.”

“I did, sir. It says ‘Robert Stern. Madison, Wisconsin Book Club.’”

“OK. I must’ve pulled out the wrong one. Wait. Wait a minute.”

“Mr. Stern, sir, we’re closing. Can you find the right one, please? Sir, sir, you can’t just walk away with that.”

“I’ll bring it back, trust me.”

“Trust you? I’m sorry, you will have to leave now and please don’t take that. You see the sign that says we close at 5:00? Please.”

“Sylvia, are you hearing this?”

“Yup.”

“Should we help the guy out?”

“I guess.”

“Miss, we’ll sign for him.”

“Do you know this man?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him here.”

“When was that?”

“Two days ago.”

“Alright, alright. Give me yours.”

“Here ‘ya go.”

“Is this your current address?”

“Yes, it is.”

“OK, then. Mr. Stern, this man will accept responsibility. Please don’t forget about the late fees, sir.”

“Thanks a lot, mister. What’s your name?”

“Bill Sullivan. This is Sylvia. You from Madison? How long ‘ya been here?”

“Week or so. God it’s hot. She was a bitch, huh?”

“She’s new. Yeah, a little uptight, maybe.”

“I’m not used to that strict ID thing. Madison’s were easier.”

“This branch is good, though. They got good selections. Sylvia practically lives here.”

“You will get that back on time, right?”

“Oh, sure, sure, man. Trust me.”