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2003-05-27 - 6:33 p.m.

I just got home from therapy and from the store and was pulling a pile of groceries out of the back of my car when an elderly Jamaican woman approached me. She had a very thick accent and I was a little shocked to have all my inner musings being pushed away by actual conversations, so I didn't entirely catch everything she said.

But it was something. Like.

Big smile.

"Is (The Girl's name) home? Oh no mon. She's at work."

I nod. Still holding the groceries.

"And you are CubicleGirl-ina?"

I figure that's close enough and so I nod again.

She smiles. Big. That's a BIG smile. Holds out her arms, and hugs me. Groceries and all. Kisses me on the cheek.

"You tell The Girl that Maria came by to see her. You tell her I'm thinking of her and you are so beautiful like when you were little."

And then. She just left. Gone. Disappeared when I said good-bye and got the rest of my bags.

So. That's either a sign from God or the Virgin Mary in the form of an overly-friendly Jamaican lady.


Someone's been going through my mail.

It's difficult to distinguish signs from God, from people prone to committing federal crimes.

And then. Then I came in to a phone call from The Girl informing me that she's sold her first car.

You tell me.


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