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 up at the counter weighs two hundred fifteen pounds and knows how to 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?
