These are real.

Okay.

Who has a safety deposit box full of

money and six passports and a gun?

Who has a bank account number in their hip?

I come in here, and the first thing I'm doing is I'm catching the sightlines

and looking for an exit.

I see the exit sign, too. I'm not worried.

I mean, you were shot.

People do all kinds of weird and amazing stuff when they are scared.

I can tell you the license plate numbers of all six cars outside.

I can tell you that our waitress is left-handed

and the guy sitting at the counter weighs 215 pounds and can handle himself.

I know the best place to look for a gun is the cab of the gray truck outside.

And at this altitude, I can run flat out for a half-mile before my hands start shaking.

Now why would I know that?

How can I know that and not know who I am?