"You left me," Myx said.
"It was unintentional," I said.
"You left me."
"I was momentarily distracted, Myx. That's all. You should have spoken up."
"I'm a book, Dave. Speaking up is largely what you make of it."
Towards the end of our visit to the Hall of Flame Museum in Phoenix, I had taken this photo of Myx. Something else got my attention--I was reading of all the valiant firefighters who had sacrificed in the line of duty. My father had been a firefighter for 33 years, and my brother is an active member of the local department now--so, seeing this exhibit meant something personal to me.
I finished my tour, bought some souvenirs, and was about to walk out when I stopped and literally said, "Where's Myx?" The title of this blog finally had some tangible relevance!
The jaded and weathered retired firefighter that ran the whole show by himself saw my distress and asked what was wrong. I told him I forgot my book. He asked, in a bored voice, if it was the one I had been taking photos of outside! Like that happened every day!
I ran back and found Myx patiently (for him) waiting near the bell.
"You left me," he said.
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