Grabbing breakfast

You really hate to ask more of this day, having already completed one of your frequent fantasies before you'd even properly dressed. But your stomach is rumbling something fierce, and, to your knowledge, there's little more in college-guy fridge than three kinds of mustard, a few eggs you don't feel like cooking, and maybe--but probably not--some egg rolls in the freezer, if Jimmy's overeager friend Frank hasn't seen them. But, then again, he probably has.

You finish dressing in a black T-shirt and jeans, head out from your bedroom, clamber down the stairs, grab your black windbreaker, and head out the front door before having to see Jimmy or, especially, Ginny. There's no way you could keep a straight face if Jimmy asked how your night went ("Ended up right between your girlfriend's hefty tits, actually!") or if Ginny shot you even half of a third of a smile.

Your car's parked over on a side street, this being a weekend and your street having a parking scheme that requires advanced differential equations, so you decide to take the short walk to Main Street. After two blocks of row houses, you see a car roll slowly through a four-way stop, then pull alongside the curb in front of you.