Seeing George's call first thing in the morning is worrisome. I pick up the call, hoping that whatever had made him call me so early is really worth it.
"It's Sammy. He had that weird dream again. This is the third night he is having it in a row," he blurts out.
From the sound of it, it seems like he is right in the middle of a New York traffic jam. Horns and screams are blasting everywhere.
"Okay, but where are you? And how is he?"
"He is right here with me."
His reply makes my brows furrow and has me sitting up from my lying position. The golden rays from the sun pouring into the room illuminate it. I go over to the window to slide it wider open, lightening up the room even more.
"What do you mean he is there with you? Aren't you walking along the road or something?"
"We are by this local coffee shop, he said he wants to drink some green tea," he explains.