A telephone conversation.

In the dining hall you make a sandwich and carry it to the faculty table, sitting at one end, far away from the few other faculty members present. Taking a bite you pull out your phone and dial the number of an associate from your past.

"Len, it's Mikey," you say when he answers, using your street name. "Got something for you man. Primo stuff. IDs, cards, all that shit."

"How fresh?"

"Couple days. Won't be missed yet. Photos front and back. This will be high limit shit man."

"Ok. Usual deal. I'm not in town right now. Back Wednesday."

"I'm not in town either. Up north a ways."

"Yeah? Maybe we're close. You know Paradise Woods? Strip club just off 93?"

"I can find it."

"Cool. Be there at 9. Bring the stuff."

"Deal. Usual terms?"

"I already said so Mikey. Clean your ears."

The phone goes dead in your hand and you take another bite of your sandwich, smiling to yourself.