The Miracle on Monhegan Island
I disappeared from my life in the time it takes to buy a bottle of Yoo-Hoo and a package of pork rinds.
One minute I was curled up in the back of a cream-coloured Mercedes Ponton sedan, sleeping the bespoke slumber of those destined for high thread counts, the next moment I was in an alien world of Naugahyde and errant springs, wondering what happened to all that buttery tan Italian leather.