“What is it, kid?”

I took out an imaginary wallet from my back pocket, made like I was opening it.

“What, you lost your wallet? Go buy a new one. You’re flush now.”

I shook my head, pretended to take a card out of that same imaginary wallet.

“You lost your ID? Just go back to where you came from. They’ll give you a new one.”

I shook my head again. I pointed to that invisible card in my hand.

“You need…”

Finally, the lightbulb went off.

“You need a new ID. As in, a whole new fucking identity.”

I nodded my head.

“Oh, shit. That’s a whole different deal right there.”

I leaned in close, put one hand on his shoulder. Come on, friend. You gotta help me out here.

“Look,” he said. “We know who you work for. I mean, we’re gonna send him his cut, right? That’s how this deal works. We’re not gonna stiff him, believe me. So if you got a problem like that, why don’t you go back home and get it straightened out there?”

How could I explain this to him? Even if I could speak? This strange sort of limbo I was in now. I was a dog who couldn’t go home, who didn’t have a place on his master’s floor. Or even in his backyard. I had to stay on the run, scrounging for scraps in the garbage cans.

Until he finally called me. When the master stuck his head out the door and called my name, you better believe I had to go running back to him.

“Look, I know a guy,” he said. “I mean, if you’re really in a jam.”

He took out his own wallet, pulled out a business card and then a pen. He turned the card over and started writing on it.

“You call this guy and he’ll-”

He stopped writing and looked up at me.

“Oh yeah. That might be tough. I guess you should probably just go see him in person, eh?”