Tom From Arkansas  My neighbor Anna Gates drops a man off in the alley behind our house. He walks into our house through the back door. He has a beard and is wearing sunglasses. My cousins Rich and Melissa Redding are there. The man's name may be Tom. He opens the refrigerator. He wants a beer. We have no beer. He looks for, and finds, wine and vodka. He makes himself at home. He has a cordless phone in his back pocket. He starts to walk down the basement stairs. I say to him, "Tom, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He stops and comes back up the stairs. He resents my request. He starts talking about how this would never happen in Arkansas, where he is from. I feel guilty for asking him to leave. I try to explain to him that to me, he is a complete stranger. I don't know him at all. If Anna had told me something about him or if he said something about her it would be different because there would be a connection.