Melanie, is that you? \ From the bedroom, Blaine walks out, wearing a pair of old basketball shorts. Dark brown hair, matted on one side of his head and sticking out on the other, sleepy eyes, and a groggy voice materialize before my eyes. \ You’re just getting up? I stare in disbelief. \ Ya, he replies, while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I work at night and sleep by day. I am lucky enough to have been given the night shift rather than the day. As an afterthought, he looks at what he is wearing—or not wearing. Let me get dressed. \ He returns with a red turtleneck, red and black flannel shirt, and faded Wrangler jeans.\ My shift starts at midnight, but I like to be in the field by 11:30. The left side of his upper lip curls into a cocky smirk. Do you think you can handle an all-nighter? \ Before I can answer he continues. What do you want to bring to eat— sandwiches, chips, cookies, Rice Krispies bars, Coke, Pepsi, Dr Pepper? \ I thought this was for twelve hours, not twelve days! I simply shrug.
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