We have lunch at a sit-down bistro called LuAnne’s, which is located next to Lake Erie and serves the best tuna melts and sweet potato fries in the tri-state area.
Dayton and I are seated across from each other, sipping on our glasses of water with slices of lemon. Neither of us decide to enjoy anything strong to drink. The view is spectacular; sailboats on the lake, rippling gray-blue waves, a beaming June sun overhead. The place is moderately busy with a lunch scene; hungry city workers in need of time away from their offices, garages, schools, and other places of the working world.
I learn about Dayton’s car wreck two years ago, almost to the day. Someone T-boned his 2008 Mustang, which rolled over two times, and was classified totaled thereafter. He shows me a scar on his right wrist
