C9

I shook my head and muttered softly, "No... no... I don't think so."

"Why not?"

I looked at him in puzzlement. "Um... I don't really know you."

"Okay," he answered nonchalantly as he puffed out a plume of smoke from his cigarette, "then what's your name?"

"Macro," I whispered softly as I averted my eyes from him to look down at the pavement below us.

"Cool." He paused briefly to take another draw from his cigarette. Then, after exhaling a cloud of smoke into the cold night air from his nostrils, he asked casually, "So what does Mac stand for? Is it short for anything?"

I furrowed my brows. "No. It stands for Maxwell." Then, clearing my throat before speaking louder and more confidently, I announced proudly, "Macro Maxwell, sir!"